
LITTLE FOLKS 


ANNA BLUNT MORGAN 



COPYRIGHT DErosm 


V. ‘ 


i , ' OJ-' 






.n 


. -eiPW/SKisIft^W ^ 

■; '■; ,^jv'' ;;; '«’a>'.’v'-, / .’'S’, ■ - =‘ , ^'.; „ ■''''■'v'v :<\l;;'a 




il'.') VlrfT '^r^I 

.|’/.’.!'.W/V«Jr?' 




m 




r ■ ‘ 


‘^V; ^v:'/ '1^' 

’;■' 'A ^V^■/^','.:''-'l^i^ 

■ • i', I'i. .»'' . ■/■.' V-- 

■ ' ' ‘ • ■ ' ' ‘ ( iJ’ It ' *. ' 


\ ' I / ... >■ 




■ f ■ ' V ■ 


' •. '. ’ 


' ' M ; 


■ » 





' 



• 1 ’ ’ ' ' ' ' 

1 \ i' <. 


’ ' 

* 

' , 1 ' 


' 1 


■i' 

1 

» 

• 

V - 



\ k 4 1 . ' 

' * 1 {*. ,' ' 
')»*''! • 

■' fi 


\ 

1 

' ■ ■ \ 


'■'‘‘V V'* 

i *n* t' 




p , 

■ 

' ,. .'.-■‘'A ■'■ 

r- 'ty. 

1 . . 1 1*1 




i ■ • 

, ' ■ 

, . Is 


' ; '*1 




. . • 

, • > , , 

■, : ; 1 ' • ' 

• , p ■ 




1 1 

" i i 1 I ' 

' ' /' .' 1 , 



f 

1 

\ • 


s ;, s 




' 

' ' ' » 

•' 1 ', 

'. ,., 1 ■' ,i 

■’' , 

•'i7 ■ 

'• 1 

\ ■ 



' P 

'■ ^ 1, , 


’ / ^ 1 , 

' I'v ■<: ’ ' 


*, ' 

1 

t 

'■.' ■ ■ 

* t ' 1 , ' . 

« p ' , 1 

■ p < 

1 ' * i.' , , 



•s : 

K ' 


' 1 ' ' 

1 ' * 

-V,' ' 


, ■ , . 1, 1 

’• ' / 

1 1 

' ' ' ,1 

' 1 ' ' * 

.*V ' . k 

1. 1< '' ' 

■•' ■ 1 4‘' 

'■>’ " i 


I '. 


^ , 




,/ / ' 


• ,1 

1 


( ■ 


I 

» 


t I 

,r 


r > ; >■ ■ 


<.. < 


■. ■ 'Ik 


I ‘I 


\ , 

'**{.*• 


i'* 

( 


1’ 


/• ^. 


I • 


' -" f ' / , 

• ' • 1 »• 


1 , ;.' 

■y 




1 1 

•• •'.i: 


' , j ■ .1 . 

S' ■'.'i-' 

„‘ /■, y. .w** 

I I ' ',1 ' ^ 

■ A/s. 


'•y'- 

i,l', ^ " I •y^ ' ■*, i^f I 

i " / v'. ' '•'! ‘ ^ A 1 f '•• /I '* 

' ' ■ ' "V v Vrl' ■.W.’ii, 


\ ' 


,• j 


- 'VvVyV'iA/Vi 

* , ■• ■ • ^ j ■'/ r ' p;rv 


' ^, 






s ;. 


V -.V. 


A'"S'?Ss-V^'S:'’ivS^ 

i y i i ■‘^^’'•' ■'^ l'■^'^^^ 

A'A,5feS«lMJ 




•, k 


\ . 


V'.',-: 


, k 


I > 0 ' 




^ ■ , ., ?, • I'.' ■ »' *. . / ♦ V^’ A;.''iV . \ii' >' 

• '■ , v ’'•• '■ A' O'S' 

'■, ’ ' '' ■' ■' ' ' ' , •: • 

*' /.v'l '■ ''■> ' 'V.' I ''•:■!'■■■ 

■ '■ '■ . r’\^'LJ'"v'>,>^ :• V'' 


t 


*1 v 




;:''V. • ' >■' vri.:!v 


l}« 


• >,'.* '’'V 


M A iK 


Mi 


A * 


•iS 






v% 








>v 




/ 




A BRIGHT-EYED OVEN-BIRD MOTHER SAT AT THE DOOR OF HER 

LITTLE HOME. — Page 155. 



LimE FOLKS 
TRAMPING AND CAMPING 

A Nature-Study Story 
of 

Real Children and a Real Camp 
By 

ANNA BLUNT MORGAN 

ILLUSTRATED BY HAROLD JAMES CUE 



BOSTON 

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO. 


Published, August 1990 



Copyright, 1920, 

By Lotheop, Lee & Siiepabd Co. 
All Rights Reserved 
Little Folks Tramfiko and Camping 



florwooj) iPrcea 

BERWICK & SMITH CO. 

NORWOOD, MASS. 

OCT 1 1 1920 
©Cf.A576842 


TO 

SHERBURNE MORGAN 

AND TO 

THB NIECES AND NEPHEWS OF 
"AUNTY” 



I 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I. The Children Meet Madam Nuthatch . 13 

II. Introducing Marshall 25 

III. Opening Day at the Restaurant ... 34 

IV. The Children Make the Acquaintance op 

Jim Crow 48 

V. A February Walk 64 

VI. A Snowstorm and Visitors 74 

VII. Housekeeping 85 

VIII. The Children Entertain a Stranger . . 94 

IX. A Happy Day Ill 

X. Fire! 128 

XI. Uncle to the Rescue 141 

XII. The Wrens^ Introduction to the World . 159 

XIII. Marshall Entertains 170 

XIV. A Storm and a Secret 186 

XV. Camp Life 203 

XVI. A Visit to the Lake 220 

XVII. Sherburne’s Pet 236 

XVIII. Anne 249 

XIX. Lessons 260 

XX. Lost-a Picnic 277 

XXI. Humming-Birds’ Home-Life 295 

XXII. Night in the Forest 312 

XXIII. A Forest Fire 331 

XXIV. Prizes 350 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


A bright-eyed oven-bird mother sat at the door of her 

little home (Page 155) Frontispiecd' 

TACINQ 

PAGE 

^^Just as I thought. Grosbeaks, and crossbills, and red- 
polls’^ 78^^ 

He flung it directly over the creature’s head .... 102 

Rambling along under the trees, with his hat in his hand, 
he recited a poem . . 154 

He lifted the door of the cage 246^^ 

She did not offer to fly when he put his hand upon her 348< 


PART I 


LITTLE FOLKS TRAMPING 


I 



LITTLE FOLKS 
TRAMPING AND CAMPING 


CHAPTER I 

THE CHILDREN MEET MADAM NUTHATCH 

^^Shrewd little haunter of woods all gray, 
Whom I meet on my walk of a winter day, 
You’re busy inspecting each cranny and hole 
In the ragged bark of yon hickory bole; 
You intent On your task and I on the law 
Of your wonderful head and gymnastic claw. 


Head upward, head downward, all one to you. 

Zenith and nadir the same to your view.” 

Edith Thomas. 

The firelight glowed warmly upon five rosy 
faces gathered about the great old-fashioned 
fireplace, and strove to light the shadowy cor- 
ners fast darkening in the early February twi- 
light. Such a jolly room it is. Big easy- 
chairs are there; big windows to let in the 
sun; a soft, thick rug, well-worn by childish 


13 


LITTLE FOLKS 


14 

feet ; a big table, its top well scratched by child- 
ish fingers, its legs scarred by children's boots; 
a big bearskin before the fire, to lie upon and 
dream, as one gazes into the glowing coals ; and, 
best of all, a big, broad couch at one side, so 
good for — oh, so many things ! A word, and it 
is transformed into a fort in time of siege, a 
desert island, a boat, a train ; but ready, at a 
moment’s notice, to be a couch again, welcom- 
ing some little sufferer with a wee bit of a cold, 
or a little body tired with play ; or, better still, 
a place for mother to rest, while one snuggles 
up by her side and pours interesting confidences 
into her sympathetic ear. 

No wonder, then, that Uncle, mounting the 
steps in two great strides, was surprised, when 
he entered the room, to find tears and woeful 
faces there. In the very biggest big arm-chair 
sat Elizabeth, vainly striving to comfort her 
little sister, a damp little bundle of misery 
curled up beside her, half in and half out of her 
lap. In front of them stood the three boys, 
curious and sympathetic, and a wee bit envious 
of the importance of Caroline. For this was no 
ordinary trouble, such as a bump or a cut finger. 

^‘Well, well! What’s all this about!” cried 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 15 

Uncle, bending over the nnhappy little figure 
in Elizabeth’s arms. His sympathetic tones 
brought a fresh burst of tears. 

‘‘Here! Here! This won’t do,” he cried. 
“What can be the matter to cause such a del- 
uge r ’ 

“She’s hurt,” explained Elizabeth, feeling 
quite grown-up. “And I don’t want her to 
bother Mamma, because she’s with Marshall.” 

“A very good reason,” answered Uncle, 
kindly patting the tumbled hair, and brushing it 
back out of Caroline’s swollen eyes. “Let 
Elizabeth be Mamma this time, Caroline, and 
I ’ll be the doctor, ’ ’ he suggested, smiling cheer- 
fully at her. “How are you hurt?” 

“Something hit her!^^ cried Rob, eager to tell 
the exciting news, while Caroline poured forth 
more tears. 

“What bit her? A mosquito?” laughed 
Uncle, though secretly now a little anxious. 

“We don’t know,” answered Elizabeth, cud- 
dling the child closer in her arms. 

“How can that be?” asked Uncle, wondering. 
“Where were you?” 

‘ ‘ ’Twas in a hole in a tree, ’ ’ Elizabeth began 
to explain. 


i6 


LITTLE FOLKS 


Twas a snake ! wailed Caroline, between 
her sobs. ‘Tt hissed awful! 

‘‘Oh, no; this is too early for snakes,’^ said 
Uncle kindly. “They have not waked up from 
their winter ^s sleep yet.’’ And he took the 
little weeping figure into his arms. “Let me 
see,” he said. “Where is the bite?” And 
Caroline eagerly held up a red and swollen 
thumb. “Come, tell me all about it,” he said 
in a comforting tone, settling her cozily in his 
arms, her head against his shoulder. 

‘ ‘ I went out in the back-yard to play with the 
boys,” she began. 

“An’ we found a hole,” interrupted Sher- 
burne. 

“In a tree,” shouted James. 

“Yes,” agreed Caroline. “And it was just 
fine to play post-ovice in. And I was pos’man, 
an’ the boys wrote letters an’ put ’em in the 
hole. An’ the wind blewed ’em way down in, 
an’ when I put my hand in,” she paused — a 
fresh burst of tears drowning her words, as she 
recalled the thrilling moment. “An’ I put my 
hand ’way down in the hole, ’ ’ she continued, con- 
trolling her sobs, ” an ’ something awful grabbed 
my finger an’ bit an’ punched, an’ punched my 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 17 

hand with something sharp ! The last words 
ended in a wail that was calculated to bring 
Mamma from any part of the house, had not 
Uncle smothered it against his broad chest in 
a eomforting bear-hug. 

< < There, there ! ’ ’ he crooned, as he rocked her 
back and forth like a baby. ‘^You are more 
frightened than hurt. Are you sure that you 
didn’t get into a woodpecker’s hole?” 

Caroline looked at him blankly, but Rob 
answered: ‘^No, Uncle. I’ve never seen a 
‘red-head’ about this place, — only out on the 
telegraph poles.” 

“It might have been some other kind of wood- 
pecker,” suggested Uncle. 

“I didn’t know there was but one kind,” said 
Rob, his eyes opening wide with a new interest. 

“Let’s go see,” cried Elizabeth, jumping to 
her feet. So, with Caroline on Uncle’s back, 
they all tramped out through the back hall and 
kitchen, into the back-yard, the twin cousins, 
James and Sherburne, leading them straight to 
the tree with a hole in it. 

“I think I can guess who the guilty party 
was,” laughed Uncle, as he gently kicked the 
base of the tree. Almost instantly Madam Nut- 


i8 


LITTLE FOLKS 


hatch appeared at her front door, gave a 
startled look about her, and then with a harsh 
‘‘Hank! Hank!^^ flew swiftly away. With 
her black cap standing very much on end, her 
pretty gray gown much rumpled and tossed, she 
looked a very cross and disorderly housekeeper 
aroused from a nap. With tear-dimmed eyes 
Caroline watched her small antagonist disap- 
pear, and when she finally understood that it 
was this small bird who had so completely 
routed her, she was much disgusted, and quite 
ready to dry her eyes and return to her play. 

“What kind of a bird was it. Uncled’ Eliza- 
beth asked, as they returned the house. 

“A nuthatch,’’ answered Uncle. “It is one 
of the few birds that can stand our long, cold 
winters. You should encourage h^er to stay by 
feeding her, for she is a very useful bird, eat- 
ing the insects that would injure these beautiful 
trees that your father is so proud of.” 

As he spoke they entered the big living-room 
which they had left a few moments before. A 
shower of sparks flew madly up the chimney as 
they opened the door, quite as if they had been 
in mischief while the family was out of the 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 19 

room, and the clouded faces and tearful eyes 
disappeared as if by magic. 

^AVhat have you been doing all day?’^ asked 
Uncle, as they seated themselves once more 
about the fireplace. ‘‘Have you been out of 
doors?’’ 

“Only the little kids,” answered Elizabeth, 
her face clouding over again. 

“What could we do out-of-doors in February? 
It ’s too cold to go wild-flowering, and too warm 
to skate or slide ! February is a horrid month, 
except for holidays on great men ’s birthdays. ’ ’ 

“Why not go bird-hunting, as I have been 
doing?” answered Uncle, smiling but sympa- 
thetic. 

“I don’t want to hunt birds!” cried Caroline, 
her recent experience with the nuthatch still 
fresh in her mind. 

Uncle laughed, and Elizabeth exclaimed ; 
“Bird-hunting! Why, Uncle Hal, I didn’t 
think that you would hunt birds!” 

“I don’t see that you have brought any,” 
grumbled disappointed Rob, nosing about for 
the “bag,” visions of plover for tea fast dis- 
appearing. 


20 


LITTLE FOLKS 


hunt with my eyes/^ laughed Uncle; ^^but 
I did bring one home/^ 

‘‘But,^^ interrupted Elizabeth, who was at 
that trying age when extreme youth, in the 
pride of much newly acquired wisdom, is con- 
tinually trying to set mature folks right, ‘Hhe 
birds have not come back from the south yet/’ 
‘^Birdies didn’t all go away,” piped up the 
little cousin from the south. 

^ ^You’re right,” said Uncle, swinging the 
four-year-old up to his unoccupied knee. 
‘^Some did stay at home, little Mrs. Nuthatch 
for instance; some are paying us winter visits; 
and a very few have returned from the south. 
At any rate, I saw a bluebird to-day. ’ ’ 

^^What! Really! Oh, Uncle, how lovely!” 
came from a chorus of voices. 

^‘What do you really mean. Uncle, by saying 
that you have been hunting the birds?” per- 
sisted Elizabeth. 

^‘Ever since I was a boy,” explained Uncle, 
who, with his handsome face and merry ways, 
seemed little more than that now, have fol- 
lowed the birds through mud and mire, study- 
ing their looks and habits. Whenever I am in 
a new neighborhood I take long tramps about 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 21 


the country, hunting for new bird-friends and 
renewing acquaintance with old ones. This 
bird-study is one of my keenest pleasures. 

‘‘Nature spreads wide her book, 

In a temple fair and free, — 

To all who may listen, she cries, ‘Come look ! 

Come and learn at my knee. 

Watch the change of the finch’s vest. 

Note how the high-hole carves his nest; 

Come with a light foot and loving breast. 

And bring your ills with you.’ ” 

‘‘But, Uncle, said Elizabeth, when he had 
finished his little quotation, “we donT have any 
bright, pretty birds away up here in this cold 
climate.” 

“What!” cried Uncle, indignant at such ig- 
norance of his native birds. 

Before he could finish his sentence she hastily 
added, “I mean, of course, except our orioles, 
and bluebirds, and, — and, — oh, one or two oth- 
ers,” she finished, flushing and stammering in 
her confusion. 

‘ ‘ Such as the scarlet tanager, the indigc-bird, 
the yellow warbler, the goldfinch, the red- 
headed woodpecker, the flicker,” rattled the 
doctor, so rapidly that he had to pause for 
breath. 


22 


LITTLE FOLKS 


‘T didn’t think of those,” began Elizabeth, 
blushing deeply. 

^‘No,” said Uncle gravely, setting the twin 
cousins upon the floor, and beginning to pace 
up and down before the fire, a trick of his when 
deeply in earnest. ‘‘No, you didn’t think! 
The boy who sends the pebble flying from his 
sling-shot into the breast of some happy little 
songster, stilling forever its heart full of mel- 
ody, ‘never thought’ how this little creature was 
doing his part to brighten a world, with beauty 
and music. Nor did he think, to look at it from 
the business man’s standpoint, of the value each 
little bird is to the world, by killing innumer- 
able injurious insects and worms. Neither 
does the young girl ‘think,’ as she tosses her 
pretty head, adorned with the once quivering 
breast of the gull, how the gentle creature 
agonized that she might be decked out. — But 
here! here! What have I done,” he cried, 
astonished that his little outburst had brought 
such shame and horror into the childish eyes 
turned on him. “I’m sure you never did those 
dreadful things, and this summer I am going 
to teach you to know and love your native birds 
so well that you can never take pleasure in see- 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 23 

ing or wearing their little dead bodies. ’ ^ Then, 
seating himself again, with the twins in their 
usual places, he said, ‘‘How many kinds of 
birds do you little folks suppose there are in 
Wisconsin ? I mean both of those that live here 
and those that just pass through on their long 
journeys in spring and fall.” 

Elizabeth thought for a moment, and then 
answered timidly, “Fifty, perhaps.” 

“How many, Rob?” said Uncle, turning to 
his nephew. 

“Well,” said Rob, who had been trying to do 
a little lightning calculating while Elizabeth 
was answering, “there must be four or five 
kinds of sparrows; and of warblers — I think 
that ’s what you call the song-birds — there must 
be a dozen kinds. Then you said there’s more 
than one kind of woodpecker,” — 

“Oh,” cried Uncle, interrupting him with a 
good-natured laugh, “you poor, ignorant city 
children! I think it’s time I came to teach you 
to see the things before your eyes. Now let me 
make a suggestion. I shall be here all sum- 
mer, ’ ’ — 

Here shouts of applause drowned his voice 
for a moment. “And,” he continued, when he 


24 TRAMPING AND CAMPING 

could be heard, ^‘you and I will have long glor- 
ious tramps through the woods and meadows, to 
the lakes and marshes. And you shall learn to 
know and love your little bird-brothers. Then 
when I go away in the autumn, I shall repeat 
my question, ‘How many kinds of birds may be 
seen in this Stated And of course you older 
ones understand that, with the exception of a 
very few, the same birds may be found any- 
where in this latitude, east of the Rocky Moun- 
tains and the plains. And the one of you who 
gives me the best answer shall receive a prize. ^ ’ 
Amidst the shouts and applause with which 
his words were received. Mamma entered the 
room. “But, Rob,^^ he continued, when they 
were quiet once more, “let me tell you now that 
song-birds are not all warblers, and warblers 
are often poor singers. 

“Oh, Hal! Hal!’’ cried Mamma, when the 
children had made her acquainted with his plans. 
“In this weather! I see visions of wet feet — 
pneumonia! Well,” with a shake of her head, 
“you’re the doctor. You will have to see them 
safely through it. But come, now. Marshall is 
waiting.” And they all tramped gayly up the 
stairs to their brother’s room. 


CHAPTER II 


INTRODUCING MARSHALL 

“If thou art pained with the world^s noisy stir, 

Or crazed with its mad tumults, and weighed down 
With any of the ills of human life; 

If thou art sick and weak — 

* * * * 0 
Then turn into the peaceful woods and hear 
The thrilling music of the forest-birds.” 

Isaac McClellan. 

Marshall, a pale, slender lad, not yet sixteen, 
lay in his room on a couch near the fire, as he 
had done for many months, — ^months in which 
he had seen his boyhood companions grow 
broad and tall, strong and eager, rapidly enter- 
ing the full bloom and beauty of manhood, while 
he alone, of all the boys in his class, lay bound 
by the cruel master, ill-health. Many doctors 
had tried their skill upon him, but in vain. 

A few days before our story opens his fa- 
therms brother, or Uncle Hal, as we shall know 
him, had arrived from abroad, full of enthusi- 
asm about the, then, new theory of sunshine and 
25 


26 


LITTLE FOLKS 


fresh air as the weapons to be used upon the 
disease which he feared had fastened itself upon 
his nephew. At first Marshall rather dreaded 
his uncle ’s coming, as an invalid nearly always 
does dread any change. But to know Uncle was 
to love him, and within a few days Marshall 
had given him his whole heart and confidence. 

The boy smiled as he heard the children 
tramping up the stairs. ‘‘They^re going to tell 
me something to-night, Aunty, he said, turn- 
ing to Sherburne’s mother, who sat near him. 
‘T can tell by the way they come up the stairs. 
They are in such a hurry that they haven ’t time 
to scrap on the way.” 

As he ceased speaking and turned toward the 
door with his usual winning smile, the little 
party entered. Uncle bearing a twin on each 
shoulder. 

For five minutes the children all talked at 
once, trying to explain to their brother their 
uncle’s plan. Marshall listened almost as eag- 
erly as if he, too, were to have a part of the fun. 
But Uncle thought he saw a wistful look in the 
boy’s eyes as he turned them toward the fast- 
darkening landscape without, and he hastened 
to interrupt the children’s story. 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 27 

^^And let me tell you, Marshall,’’ he said, rais- 
ing his hand for silence, God’s birds are not 
here to be enjoyed by well folks alone. These 
little folks here do not know half my plans for 
the summer.” 

Marshall looked eagerly into his uncle ’s smil- 
ing eyes. 

‘T can’t go on tramps,” he said, with lips it 
was hard to steady. 

^^No,” said Uncle, ‘^not yet/^ with strong 
emphasis on the last word. ‘‘But I know of no 
more interesting pastime for invalids than the 
study of birds. Why, with this big yard, with 
that mulberry-tree, which nearly all birds de- 
light in, the elm-tree for the orioles, those pines 
for the cone-loving birds, and, this summer. 
Mother’s sunflowers and marigolds for the gold- 
finches, you ought to have a veritable bird- 
yard,” he ended enthusiastically. 

“But our summers are so short here,” said 
Marshall doubtfully. 

“Then cultivate the hardy birds that stay 
with us in the winter, and the winter visitors 
that come down from the north.” 

But Marshall shook his head, smiling wist- 
fully. “I don ’t know how to do that, nor how I 


28 


LITTLE FOLKS 


can study them, tied up here,’’ he said sadly. 

‘‘That’s just what I’m coming to,” said 
Uncle, smiling cheerfully, and with a funny, 
mysterious twinkle in his eyes, which the chil- 
dren learned to know and love. “The big sec- 
ond-story veranda in front of your windows 
here, with the big pine at one end, and the elm at 
the other, just suits my purpose. Now I want 
to put up a bird-restaurant.” 

“A what?” cried a chorus of voices. 

“Just what I say: a free restaurant for the 
birds right out there on the veranda, where 
Marshall can watch those that come and go. 
He can lie here and make notes for me to use 
in my books.” 

“Your books!” cried the juvenile chorus 
again. 

“Yes, my books. I’m not always a musty, 
fusty, drug-smelling doctor! I have written a 
book or two about birds, and I mean to write 
more. And, as I was saying, I mean that Mar- 
shall shall help me. Besides making notes,” 
he continued, watching with his professional 
eye the color come and go in Marshall’s cheeks, 
‘ ‘ I have ordered an Eastman kodak and outfit ’ ’ 
— But he got no farther then, for glad shouts 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 29 

and clapping of hands drowned his voice en- 
tirely. When the noise had subsided, which it 
quickly did, in their eagerness to hear more, he 
continued, ^‘And Marshall shall take pictures 
of the birds at their luncheon, and otherwise, 
to be used in those same books just mentioned. 
The nuthatch which Caroline found, or which 
found Caroline, will probably be one of your 
first subjects.’’ And he pinched her rosy cheek 
still redder. 

But Caroline wrinkled up her nose expres- 
sively. ^^Hm!” she exclaimed, ‘‘I guess I 
know how she looks. 1 don’t want her pic- 
ture ! ’ ’ 

Marshall squeezed his uncle’s hand tight, and 
let his eyes beam his gratitude, as he whispered 
rather huskily, ^^Then I’ll be really helping 
with the books, won’t I?” 

And seeing the lad’s eyes almost brimming 
with tears. Uncle gave his hand an answering 
squeeze, and exclaimed, as he jumped up from 
his chair, ‘^Well, we might as well make some 
more plans while we’re at it,” and ran gayly 
down the stairs. In three minutes he returned, 
carrying several short boards and strips of 
bark. 


30 


LITTLE FOLKS 


‘^Why, Uncle,’’ cried the chorus, ‘‘what have 
yon got?” And they crowded eagerly about 
him, sure that some new pleasure was about to 
be proposed. 

“Well,” he began, in a funny, complaining 
tone, rubbing his arms as he set down the 
boards, “I don’t think it’s nice to invite com- 
pany to spend the summer with you, and then 
not provide a room for them.” 

“Why, Uncle!” gasped Elizabeth, who never 
saw a joke. “You know you have a room! 
You don’t have to sleep out on the porch! You 
said you wanted to ! ” 

“To be sure,” said Uncle gravely, while he 
winked at Mamma, ‘ ‘ but the wrens and the blue- 
birds you invited to visit us have no place to 
themselves ; at least, no place that they like, or 
could get without a good deal of trouble. So 
I’ve been over to the sawmill and lugged home 
all this building-material in my poor arms.” 
And he rubbed his big strong arms that could 
have carried many times as much without an 
effort, and made a comical face, as if in pain, 
while Elizabeth stared so solemnly at him 
that even the little ones giggled, and Uncle 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 31 

laughed merrily, as he patted her on the shoul- 
der and told her not to worry about him. 

‘‘And now,’^ he continued earnestly, “I want 
Marshall to draw some plans for some summer 
homes for our little guests. There must be 
quite a large apartment-house, or ‘flat,’ for the 
martins. But bluebirds and wrens are more 
exclusive, and prefer cottages all to them- 
selves.” So half in earnest, half jesting, he 
explained to Marshall, who was skilled with the 
pencil, what he wished him to do. 

“After we have the plans,” he continued, 
turning to Rob, who stood eagerly listening, 
“you and I will attend to building the houses 
and putting up the lunch-counter. The birds 
will take more readily to a house which is not 
freshly painted and is somewhat weather- 
beaten. So the sooner we get these in place 
the better. Above all, the birds like a house 
that is covered with the natural bark of the 
tree. I suppose it looks more home-like to 
them, — less as if man had a hand in it. ” 

The next evening Marshall showed them the 
plans, which had kept him pleasantly occupied 
all day, and before the following Saturday the 


LITTLE FOLKS 


32 

houses were all in place, waiting for the little 
feathered tenants. 

MarshalPs room had windows on three sides. 
A long veranda ran along the west side, and at 
either end of this Uncle had placed a tiny bird- 
house. From the windows upon the veranda 
one could almost look in at the doors of the 
‘‘martin-flats,’^ high up on a pole, safe from 
cats. 

“When they all come,” laughed Marshall, 
“with the nuthatch at the back, I shall be sur- 
rounded by birds.” 

“Oh, let’s name our place,” cried Elizabeth. 
‘ ‘ Let ’s call it ‘ Bird Land. ’ I ’ve always wanted 
to name it.” 

“Suppose we do,” agreed Marshall. “But 
not ‘Bird Land.’ I don’t like that.” 

“Sparrow Hall I think would be most ap- 
propriate,” laughed Papa. “They are the 
most common birds about here. ’ ’ 

“You just wait,” warned Uncle. And the 
children received the suggestion with scorn. 

“How about ‘Nuthatchery’l” laughed Uncle. 
“They may be plentiful later.” 

“We won’t name it for her!” cried Caroline 
promptly. ‘ ‘ She ’s too cranky ! ’ ’ 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 33 

‘‘Suppose we call it ‘Birds’ Haven/ ” sug- 
gested Aunty. 

The children looked doubtful, but when she 
explained that a “haven” was a place of safety, 
the name was accepted with much applause. 
And Rob immediately planned to paint the 
name on a board, to be hung over the vine-cov- 
ered entrance to the grounds. 


CHAPTER III 


OPENING DAY AT THE RESTAURANT 

“There^s somebody knocking. Hark ! Who can it be ? 

It’s not at the door! No, it’s in the elm-tree. 

I hear it again ; it goes ^rat-a-tat-tat’ ! 

Now what in the world is the meaning of that? 

I think I can tell you. Ah, yes, it is he; 

It’s a young Master Woodpecker, gallant and free. 

He’s dressed very handsomely (‘Rat-a-tat-tat !’), 

Just like a young dandy, so comely and fat.” 

The birds’ restaurant had been in place for 
three days before it had any visitors but the 
English sparrows, who found it the very first 
day. 

In case you may wish to build one, I am 
going to tell you how Uncle built ours. It was 
very simple after all. As Mamma thought that 
food upon the veranda would attract mice 
rather than birds, he built a circular shelf 
around the trunk of the elm-tree, which stood 
at the south end of the porch, where in winter 
it would get plenty of sunshine. The shelf was 
about a foot wide, so that no cat climbing up the 
34 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 35 

tree could get on top of it. Around the edge 
he nailed tin guttering, such as we use about the 
eaves of a house, to carry the water oft of the 
roof. This was to serve both as a drinking- 
place and a bath-tub in the summer. 

Marshall watched the little lunch-counter 
very closely, but only the sparrows came. On 
the third day, as he lay waiting for his luncheon, 
little James tiptoed into the room. 

“Have ve birdies come to lunch yet, Marsh P’ 
he asked hopefully. 

“No,’’ said Marshall, smiling at the eager 
little face peering out of the window. “Per- 
haps they don’t know that luncheon is ready.” 

James looked at him curiously for a moment, 
and then, with a little gurgling chuckle of mis- 
chief, he seized Marshall’s call-bell and rang it 
furiously. So wildly did he ring that Mamma 
flew to the room, pale with fear, lest something 
was troubling Marshall. And in two minutes 
every member of the family had gathered there, 
only to find the sick lad leaning back among his 
cushions, very comfortable and laughing mer- 
rily, while Mamma fluttered anxiously about 
him. 

And James, somewhat frightened at the dis- 


LITTLE FOLKS 


36 

turbance he had created, explained shyly, ‘T 
dust rang ve birdies^ lunch bell. Mamma/’ 
And, turning to the window, he cried, ‘‘And 
one’s come. Marsh! One has come!” 

“Sure enough!” cried Marshall, half rising 
from his couch in his excitement. 

“Oh, Uncle, look quick! What is it?” 

All the children crowded about the window. 
Uncle warning them back, lest they frighten the 
bird, which, however, did not seem a bit timid. 

“Don’t any of you know that bird?” he 
asked. ‘ ‘ Surely you do. ’ ’ And he looked from 
one to another, but no one answered. 

“Well! Well!” he cried. “I thought you 
would all know our little friend there.” Then, 
raising the window very softly a few inches, he 
said, “Be very still, and perhaps he will tell you 
his name.” 

“Birds can’t talk, can vey?” asked James in 
open-eyed wonder. 

“Wait and see,” laughed Uncle. “Maybe 
this one will say one word.” 

The little bird hopped about the trunk of 
the tree, cocking his head first on one side and 
then on the other. “ Dee-dee-dee, he said 
softly, tasting a bit of bird-seed, while the chil- 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 37 

dren listened breathlessly. Then, settling 
down upon a piece of suet that was nailed to the 
tree, he took a nip, looked pertly about, tasted 
another, and then, as if approving of this fare, 
he chirped shrilly, ‘ ‘ Chick-a-dee-dee-dee. Dee- 
dee-dee-dee!’’ 

u There, you heard him say ‘chickadee,’ ” 
laughed Uncle as he closed the window. The 
older children clapped their hands softly with 
pleasure, but James looked plainly disap- 
pointed. “Not much talk, I fink, ’ ’ he grumbled. 

“Did you ever hear what our great Emerson 
wrote about the chickadee?” asked Uncle. 

And while chickadee thankfully, we believe, 
ate his luncheon. Uncle repeated: 

^Tiped a tiny voice near by, 

Gay and polite, a cheerful cry, 

Chick-a-dee-dee ! saucy note! 

Out of sound heart and merry throat. 

As if to say, ^Good day, sir ! 

Fine afternoon, old passenger. 

Happy to meet you in these places. 

Where January brings few faces.^ ” 

“What a dear little fellow he is! And so 
fat, ’ ’ said Elizabeth admiringly as the bird con- 
tinued hopping over the lunch-counter. 

“Yes, he wears a heavy coat of fat under his 


LITTLE FOLKS 


38 

feathers, and that helps to keep him warm 
enough to stand our cold winters,’^ explained 
Uncle. 

‘‘He has a little black cap on his head,’^ said 
Caroline, who was rapidly learning to observe. 

“Yes,’^ said Uncle, “sometimes we call it a 
mask, for it covers a part of his face as well as 
his head. Dear me, ’ ’ he exclaimed, real dismay 
showing in his face, “in our excitement over 
our restaurant I forgot what I brought home!^’ 
And while the children, eagerly curious, gath- 
ered about him, he put his hand into his breast- 
pocket and brought out a tiny, ruffled ball of 
feathers. 

“I’m sorry, your little Majesty,” he said to 
the pitiful little object in his hand, “that I for- 
got you, even for a few minutes. But you 
would have died if I hadn’t brought you in.” 
And, smiling at Mamma, who was not partic- 
ularly fond of pets, but who, he well knew, 
would put aside her own wishes, mother-fashion, 
for her sick boy, he laid in Marshall’s hand a 
tiny golden-crowned kinglet, with a broken 
wing. 

“This is to be your care,” he said to Mar- 
shall, who covered the little thing gently with 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 39 

his warm hand. shall get him a cage, but 
when he is quite well and strong again I shall 
expect you to set him free. You will be sur- 
prised to see how many exhausted, crippled, or 
half-drowned birds you will find if you keep 
your eyes open, especially during the season 
when they are migrating; that is, making their 
long journeys north or south in the spring or 
fall. This one was probably injured in last 
night’s storm. He is one of our smallest 
birds, ’ ’ he continued, as he began whittling two 
small, thin pine sticks. Notice his crown,” he 
said, laying his finger ever so gently upon the 
wee head. ‘‘The center, you see, is red, with 
a border of gold and then one of black. You 
have an unusual chance here to learn to know 
the little kinglet. He is so small, and his color- 
ing so blends with the foliage of the trees, that, 
flitting about among them, one can scarcely 
keep him in sight long enough to examine him. 
We seldom get even a glimpse of his crown. 
There is another kinglet, called the ruby- 
crowned, who is almost like this little fellow, 
but his crown has no yellow or black upon it. ’ ’ 
The little creature crouched low in Marshall ’s 
hand as they discussed it, a pitiful little object, 


LITTLE FOLKS 


40 

its feathers wet and bedraggled, its wee body 
throbbing with the violent beating of its heart. 

‘‘What yon going to make wif vose sticks F’ 
asked James, unable to keep silent any longer, 
for he dearly loved a bit of wood, a hammer, 
and nails. 

“ These, said Uncle, “are to be splints. I 
am going to set the little bird’s broken wing 
and make it quite well again. We must take 
care of him until he is strong.” 

And while the little folks looked on with eager 
interest. Uncle quickly and skillfully “set” the 
little wing, and the crippled little “king” was 
soon comfortably settled in his new quarters, 
rapidly getting used to his strange surround- 
ings. 

While he worked. Uncle told the^ children 
many interesting things about the bird and his 
family. 

“He was named ‘Tyrannus,’ ” he said, “or 
the ‘Tyrant,’ by a Greek philosopher named 
Aristotle, who lived about three hundred years 
before Christ. You, Marshall, have probably 
read about him. In those days nearly all men 
who ruled a country, and so wore a crown, were 
cruel tyrants. And so this little fellow, who is 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 41 

in no sense a tyrant, was so named because he 
wears a crown. ’ ^ 

As Uncle was speaking, down beside the 
chickadee dropped another bird. Each child 
gave a start and a little cry of delight, for it 
was the ever-charming downy woodpecker. 

cried Sherburne, ‘T know him, I do. 
He ^s a kitty bird ! A kitty bird wif a red bow 
on ! I saw one down souf to my house, too, I 
did!^’ 

‘^You^re partly right, said Uncle, smiling 
down at the eager little face. ‘‘You did see one 
down ‘souf^ almost exactly like him. It was 
this little fellow ^s close cousin, the southern 
downy. It seems to me,’’ he continued, turn- 
ing to the older children, “that these little 
folks are quite as quick as you larger ones at 
seeing the distinctive points in the birds. 
You’ll have to keep your eyes open or they’ll 
get ahead of you. Now, I’ve always noticed 
that the downy reminded me of a kitten, es- 
pecially w'hen he ’s little ; but I must admit that 
it took a child’s imagination to make the red 
spot look like a red bow. Can any of you tell 
me how he differs from the red-headed wood- 
pecker ? ’ ’ 


42 


LITTLE FOLKS 


‘^Yes, I can/’ said Rob, blushing a little, for 
it had not been so very long since he had 
‘‘pegged rocks” at the “red-heads.” “A red- 
head has red feathers all over his head, and a 
downy only has a few on the back of his head. ’ ’ 
“That’s not all,” corrected Marshall, quickly. 
“A red-head has a black tail, and a downy’s 
tail is black and white ; and the black-and-white 
is more mixed all over him. ’ ’ 

Uncle laughed at this rather “mixed” de- 
scription, and as the downy flew away, well 
pleased with his dinner, he gave the children 
some colored plates of each of the birds, that 
they might compare them. 

“But, Uncle,” said Elizabeth thoughtfully, 
as she studied them, “I saw a little bird almost 
exactly like this on my way to school yesterday, 
but I didn’t see any red on his head at all. 
Was it the southern downy?” 

“Oh, no,” said Uncle. “That may have 
been this little fellow’s wife. She doesn’t 
dress up so fine as he does. She has no red 
cap on her head. Who can tell me where the 
woodpeckers make their nests, since we are 
speaking of their wives?” 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 43 

The children were silent for a moment. 
Then Marshall said doubtfully: 

‘‘They make holes in trees, and poles, and 
church-steeples. Do they use them for their 
nests r’ 

“Awfully punk nests they^d make, I think,’’ 
said Rob slangily. 

“Well, they seem to suit the woodpeckers,” 
said Uncle. “At least, they use the same kind 
of a hole for their nesting-place. They bore 
straight backward for several inches, and then 
turn sharply downward. When they have 
bored as far as they consider suitable for a 
home, sometimes as far as two feet, the female 
lays her eggs upon the chips and dust made 
by boring the hole. This httle pile of chips is 
all the bed a baby woodpecker gets.” 

“Poor baby woodpeckers,” sighed Elizabeth. 
“I wonder how they ever get out.” 

“What makes them drum so on poles and 
steeples. Uncle?” asked Marshall. “Are they 
always making holes when they do that?” 

“They seem to do that for the same reason 
that other birds sing,” answered Uncle. “Be- 
cause they like to, or, perhaps, to attract their 


44 


LITTLE FOLKS 


mates. Do any of you know the legend of the 
red-headed woodpecker he asked. 

‘T do! I do!’’ cried Elizabeth. ‘^We 
learned it in school. ’ ’ And while the others lis- 
tened, much pleased, she recited the quaint little 
poem: 

Legend of the Northland 

^^Away, away, in the Northland, 

Where the hours of the day are few, 

And the nights are so long in winter. 

They cannot sleep them through; 

^^Where they harness the swift reindeer 
To the sledges when it snows; 

And the children look like bears' cubs 
In their funny, furry clothes; 

^^They tell them a curious story, — 

I don't believe 'tis true; 

And yet you may leani a lesson 
If I tell the tale to you. 

^^Once when the good St. Peter 
Lived in the world below. 

And walked about it preaching. 

Just as he did, you know; 

^^He came to the doors of a cottage. 

In traveling round the earth. 

Where a little woman was making cakes. 

And baking them on the hearth. 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 45 

“And being faint with fasting, 

For the day was almost done, 

He asked her from her store of cakes 
To give him a single one. 

“So she made him a very little cake. 

But, as it baking lay. 

She looked at it and thought it seemed 
Too large to give away. 

“Therefore she kneaded another; 

And still a smaller one; 

But it looked, when she turned it over, 

As large as the first had done. 

“Then she took a tiny scrap of dough 
And rolled and rolled it flat 
And baked it thin as a wafer, — 

But she couldn’t part with that. 

“For she said, ‘My cakes that seem too small. 

When I eat of them myself. 

Are yet too large to give away,’ 

So she put them on a shelf. 

“Then good St. Peter grew angry. 

For he was hungry and faint; 

And surely such a woman 

Was enough to provoke a saint. 

“Then he said, ‘You are far too selfish 
To dwell in human form. 

To have both food and shelter. 

And fire to keep you warm. 


46 


LITTLE FOLKS 


^Now you shall build as the birds do, 

And shall get your scanty food 

By boring, and boring, and boring. 

All day in the hard, dry wood’ ; 

^^Then up she went through the chimney. 

Never speaking a word. 

And out of the top flew a woodpecker. 

For she was changed to a bird. 

^‘She had a scarlet cap on her head. 

And that was left the dame. 

But aU the rest of her clothes were burned. 
Black as a coal in the flame. 

*‘And every country school-boy 
Has seen her in the wood, 

Where she lives in the trees till this very day. 
Boring and boring for food. 

^^And this is the lesson she teaches; 

Live not for yourself alone. 

Lest the needs you will not pity. 

Shall one day be your own. 

“Give plenty of what is given to you; 

Listen to pity’s call; 

Don’t think the little you give ift great. 

And the much you get is small. 

“Now my little boy, remember that. 

And try to be kind and good. 

When you see the woodpecker’s sooty dress 
And see her scarlet hood. 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 47 

“You mayn’t be changed to a bird, though you live 
As selfishly as you can; 

But you will be changed to a smaller thing, — 

A mean and selfish man!” 

Phcebe Cary. 

^^Come, now,’^ said Mamma, when she had 
finished, leading the way to the dining-room. 
‘‘Your luncheon has been waiting while the 
birds had theirs, and ’Merica will give us a 
fine scolding if we are too late. ’ ^ 


CHAPTEE IV 


THE CHILDKEN MAKE THE ACQUAINTANCE OF 
JIM CROW 

“On the limb of an oak sat a jolly old crow, 

And chatted away with glee, with glee. 

And he saw the old farmer go out to sow 
And he cried ‘It’s all for me, for me ! 

Look! liook! how he scatters the seed around; 

He is wonderful kind to the poor, the poor. 

If he’d empty it down in a pile on the ground 
I could find it much better, I’m sure, I’m sure 1’ ” 

For the next few days little was talked of in 
the family but Uncle’s plans, the grown folks 
catching the children’s enthusiasm, and rejoic- 
ing at the happy light in Marshall ’s eyes. 

In due time the camera came, and, with Uncle 
for teacher, Marshall soon learned to use it, 
snapping the twin cousins at their play, and 
any member of the family who rashly came 
within range. The Great Dane, who had been 
the children’s companion and playmate since 
Marshall was a baby, was caught,” as he 
nosed curiously about the little kinglet, getting 
acquainted; and again later, with the wee bird 
48 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 49 

between his paws, where it finally came to snug- 
gle down in comf ort and security, old Dane nod- 
ding above it. 

A week after Uncle proposed his plan, an 
express-wagon stopped at the house, and the 
children lugged in a box addressed to ‘^The 
Marsden Kids.^’ Inside they found short 
waterproof skirts for the girls, ‘^slickers’’ and 
waterproof caps for all, and five pairs of rubber 
boots, — two pairs, tiny ones, for the twin cou- 
sins, their mammas having agreed that they 
might go on some of the shorter excursions. 
Besides these there were leather-bound note- 
books, in which they were to keep a record of all 
the birds they saw. And, best of all, in neat 
leather cases, with shoulder-straps attached, 
were field-glasses for Marshall, Rob, and Eliza- 
beth. Each case was prettily marked with the 
owner’s name in tiny gilt letters, and the note- 
books v/ere marked in the same way. 

^^My! Uncle, you must have a lot of money 
to waste on us kids,” cried excited Rob, while 
the twins pranced about the room, the rubber 
boots already on their feet. 

‘‘Not a dollar, Rob,” his uncle answered 
gravely. “I do not expect this money to be 


LITTLE FOLKS 


50 

wasted, but to bring me in good returns. I in- 
tend each of you to get, besides rosy cheeks and 
good appetites, enough valuable information, 
with the aid of these glasses and this outfit, to 
more than repay me.’^ 

‘‘What are these forF^ asked Caroline, peep- 
ing through the wrong end of Eob^s glasses, 
as she nestled against Uncle’s shoulder and 
dropped a kiss upon his ear, to get his attention. 

“We use them to study the birds from a dis- 
tance,” explained Uncle, turning the glass 
around. “If we try to watch them from close 
at hand, we frighten them away. With these 
glasses we could see even little King’s crown 
from quite a distance, and perhaps he would 
never even know we had been watching him. 
Some birds will leave a nest and eggs if they 
see any one near it.” 

“Oh! Oh!” cried Caroline, interrupting 
him. “Smith’s house is coming right up to 
ours ! ’ ’ and she put her glass down in astonish- 
ment, only to be the more puzzled when she saw 
the house just where it had always been. 

“When are we going for our first walk?” 
cried Elizabeth impatiently. ‘ ‘ I just can ’t wait 
much longer!” 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 51 

^‘Weather permitting, to-morrow morning,’^ 
answered Uncle. 

^‘Oh, good! Good! Grood!’^ cried the chil- 
dren, delighted. 

As they spoke, little King, who had grown 
very tame during his imprisonment, hopped 
clumsily upon the field-glass at MarshalPs eyes, 
and leaned far over the end, as if trying to peep 
in. At the sound of the rippling laugh that 
came from MarshalPs lips. Mamma and Papa 
exchanged tremulous smiles and sent a swift 
look of gratitude to Uncle. 

The next day dawned bright and clear, and 
immediately after breakfast, hastily swallowed 
by the impatient youngsters. Uncle leading the 
little party, they started upon their first bird- 
hunt,’^ as Rob called it. Uncle explained to 
them that later, when the little warblers began 
to come from the south, they should have to 
start upon their tramps at dawn. 

How the boys laughed at the girls ’ awkward 
movements, as they proudly walked to the car 
in their rubber boots drawn quite up to their 
hips ; for Uncle said that the woods would be 
wet, and the country roads heavy from the melt- 
ing snow. They took an inter-urban car, and 


52 


LITTLE FOLKS 


as they rode Uncle talked to them about the 
birds they might hope to see so early in the 
spring. And the twins shouted with delight at 
every sparrow they saw in the muddy streets. 

‘^Now,^^ said Uncle, as they rose to leave the 
car, ‘‘what birds may we look for to-day, Eliza- 
bethr^ 

“Snow-buntings, blue jays, chickadees, jun- 
cos, song-sparrows, ’ ’ she rattled otf in one 
breath. “ThaUs all I can remember.’^ 

“Very good, for a girl who had barely heard 
their names until last week,’^ said Uncle, lift- 
ing the twins down the car steps, and 
courteously assisting the girls, which gave them 
a very grown-up feeling indeed. 

In a few moments they were spattering 
through muddy roads, heads well up, and field- 
glasses already at their eyes, afraid they might 
miss something, and each one eager to be the 
first to make a discovery. The twins were ut- 
terly happy, wading every mud-hole unre- 
proved, secure in their beautiful rubber boots. 
Each had slept the night before with a boot on 
the pillow beside him. 

“Hark!^^ cautioned Uncle, putting up a warn- 
ing finger. From somewhere near came the 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 53 

sweetest bird-song that the children had ever 
heard. 

“Oh, Uncle, whispered Caroline, creeping 
closer to his side, “it must be a little fairy. 
There isn T a bird in sight. ^ ’ And she held her 
breath to listen. 

“Not one,^’ agreed Elizabeth, “except that 
little old brown sparrow over there. They are 
everywhere, ^ ^ she added scornfully. 

“Look closely at that ^little old brown spar- 
row,’ ” laughed Uncle. 

^ ‘ Oh, ho ! ” cried Sherburne, who was peeping 
through his uncle ’s glass. ‘ ‘ He ’s got on a dirty 
shirt, he has 1 ’ ’ 

“He has, indeed,” laughed Uncle. “And he 
always wears that kind of a ‘shirt.’ He is 
our well-loved little song-sparrow, and by that 
‘dirty’ spot, as Sherburne calls it, you may 
know him from the other sparrows. Next May 
or June we may find his nest around here, built 
low in some bush, or possibly in a hole in a tree. 
Ah, there he goes. Now we may go on. To- 
night I will show you his picture, and that of 
some other sparrows, for there are some eighty- 
five or ninety varieties, and you may compare 
them. ’ ’ ' 


54 


LITTLE FOLKS 


gasped Eob; ‘‘and I guessed four or 
five kinds And he grinned sheepishly-. 

“I see a mouse cried Caroline just then, 
tangling herself up in Uncle’s legs, in a wild 
scramble for safety. 

“A mouse!” laughed he, separating himself 
from her with difficulty. ‘ ‘ Oh, I guess not. ’ ’ 

“Oh, yes,” insisted the child confidently; 
“ ’twas climbing a tree.” 

“Could you have seen a field-mouse?” said 
Uncle, turning his glass toward the tree she 
pointed out. “Oh, I see,” he said almost im- 
mediately. “Look again, Caroline.” 

“I see! I see!” cried Elizabeth. “It’s a 
little brown bird ! How funny it is acting ! It 
goes round and round the trunk of the tree, 
poking its nose under the bark.” 

“Of all the stiff, hard-looking tails!” com- 
mented Eob. “Why, Uncle, he uses it to keep 
from slipping backward.” 

“Yes,” said Uncle, who encouraged the chil- 
dren to make their own observations, “he does 
use his tail to support himself. You will find 
that nearly every physical peculiarity in a 
bird or animal has some use. This little bird 
is the brow creeper, the only species of the 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 55 

creeper family, or Certliiidae, that we have in 
this country. He has a funny habit, as Eliza- 
beth noticed, of creeping around and around a 
tree, hunting for insects. When he reaches the 
first branches he flies down and starts up an- 
other tree. He does not often nest as far south 
as these northern or central States, but, if he 
did, I doubt if you could find his nest unless 
you were told where to look for it, for he tucks 
it away under a bit of loose bark on a tree. 
Men wise in the ways of birds hunted many 
years before they discovered the secret of its 
hiding-place. It always seems as if the bark 
clings too closely to the tree, even when loos- 
ened, for six or eight young birds to be com- 
fortable in there. But Madam Creeper man- 
ages it some way. This little fellow is prob- 
ably a winter visitor, and will soon be setting 
out for Canada, or the extreme northern part 
of this country, to build a nest and raise a 
family. ’ ’ 

So the little party trudged gayly along, see- 
ing many things new to them, and watching all 
the time for birds. Not many were out this cold 
morning, but they saw a blue jay, noisy, as ever, 
but beautif ul in his deep-blue coat with its white 


56 LITTLE FOLKS 

vest and black collar; a gorgeous red-headed 
woodpecker, or union bird,^’ as he is some- 
times misnamed ; and some snow-buntings ; with 
all of whom they were familiar. 

After half an hour’s walk the twins com- 
plained of being hungry. 

^‘And here is a farm-house,” said Uncle, 

where perhaps we may be able to get you a 
glass of milk, for I see some cows in the bam.” 

Entering the yard, he went around to the 
back door, where he met a young woman, just 
entering the kitchen after feeding the chickens. 
Before Uncle had finished explaining the chil- 
dren’s needs, she was bustling about, bringing 
fresh milk and crusty doughnuts. The little 
ones ate hungrily, the crisp morning air hav- 
ing given them sharp appetites, and put bright 
roses into their cheeks. The farmer’s wife 
asked many questions, and at last said, half 
shyly, ‘‘We have an orchard full of birds in 
the summer. You should come out here then. 
We always chased them away until some one 
told my man that they eat the bugs and cut- 
worms that ruin our fruit. So one year we 
tried letting them stay, and we never had such 
fine fruit. And it was pretty to watch them 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 57 

about the trees, too. My man watched them 
pretty close, and he said all the fruit they ate 
they was welcome to, for they must have et a 
million worms and bugs. Now we put up bird- 
houses instead of scare-crows in our orchard. 
Some folks think we’re crazy, I guess.” 

Uncle clapped his hands softly. ‘^Your hus- 
band is on the road to success, I think,” he said, 
well pleased, “since he can so quickly and in- 
telligently prove the worth of a new idea ! ’ ’ 

As they rose to go, thanking her for her hos- 
pitality, she said timidly, “We have a pet the 
children might like to see.” And going to the 
door, she gave a long, shrill whistle. In a mo- 
ment, with a rush of black wings, in through the 
open door flew a splendid specimen of the Amer- 
ican crow. He perched on his mistress’s shoul- 
der and stared curiously at the children with 
his bright, yellow eyes. 

“He fell out of his nest when he was a little 
fellow,” the woman explained, gently smooth- 
ing his glossy feathers as she spoke, “and my 
little boy being sick, my man thought it might 
amuse him to raise the crow. He played with 
him all summer, and then, in the fall” — she 
nesitated — “he was took, — my boy was. And 


LITTLE FOLKS 


58 

after that we couldn’t bear to give up the 
crow. He ’s always free to go where he pleases, 
but I call him every day to make sure he isn’t 
hungry. ’ ’ 

While she was speaking the crow deliberately 
turned his back upon the company and sat with 
his tail contemptuously turned toward them. 
Little James, not understanding the mother’s 
pathetic little tale, had crept around behind her, 
to get a better look at the strange bird. He 
broke the silence that followed with a shout of 
glee. 

‘ ‘ He got it ! He did ! He did ! ” he cried. 
And, indeed, Mr. Crow had slyly pulled a glit- 
tering hair-pin from the woman’s hair, and with 
a mischievous ‘^Caw! Caw!” sailed through 
the still open door, his stolen prize in his 
beak. 

‘T’ll never see that again!” the woman said 
a little, ruefully. ‘‘He is such a mischief ! He 
steals everything he can lay his hands — no, 
claws-— on. My husband can’t find where he 
hides the things he steals, either, which makes 
it worse.” 

“Let’s go find them for her,” cried Uncle 
gayly. “Come, Rob, you and Elizabeth and I 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 59 

will go in search of the den of Mr. Janies Crow, 
Robber. ’ ’ 

Their short, fat legs being rather weary, the 
little folks were glad to stay behind and enjoy 
unlimited doughnuts, while the others tramped 
off through the woods, gazing eagerly up into 
the branches of the tall trees. Uncle kept his 
glass at his eyes, scanning the trees ahead of 
him as he stumbled along. Suddenly from the 
tip-top branches of a tall bare tree sailed a coal- 
black crow. 

‘^Mark that tree, Rob,^’ Uncle shouted, as he 
rushed after the bird. ‘‘He may have hidden 
something up there, he called back as he sped 
along. Rob tied his handkerchief to a twig, and 
soon passed Elizabeth, who was falling over 
stumps and fallen branches in a rash attempt to 
overtake Uncle. 

After half a mile of running they saw him, 
standing very still behind a tree, one hand mo- 
tioning to them in a way they later became fa- 
miliar with and understood. 

“What does he mean?’’ asked Rob of his sis- 
ter, seizing her handkerchief to wipe his per- 
spiring forehead. ‘ ‘ Gee ! but it ’s hot work run- 
ning with a winter overcoat on!” 


6o 


LITTLE FOLKS 


‘‘Be quiet, I guess, she gasped, snatching 
the handkerchief in her turn, to wipe her own 
perspiring face, scarcely able to speak for lack 
of breath. So, slipping quietly from tree to 
tree, they finally came up behind some bushes 
not far from where Uncle was hiding. 

‘ ‘ Where is he U ^ called Bob in a loud whisper. 

Uncle pointed to a very tall tree, where, more 
than half-way up, sat Mr. Crow, busily engaged 
upon some business of his own. They waited 
for several minutes, and then, with an exultant 
“Caw! Caw!'^ the crow flew swiftly back to 
his adopted home. Uncle waited until he was 
out of sight, and then they all hurried to the 
tree. 

“Ifil wager that^s the robber ^s den,^^ said 
Uncle. ‘ ‘ Can you shin up, Rob, or shall IV ^ 

“Oh, let me,^’ cried Rob eagerly. 

“All right, but be careful, cautioned Uncle. 
“I donT want our summer fun spoiled by any 
broken bones. 

But Rob was a good climber, city-bred though 
he was, gymnasium work having made him agile 
and given him a steady head. So, Uncle giving 
him a “boost,’’ he was soon sitting astride the 
branch on which the crow had been. 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 6i 


‘^Look out below!’’ he cried, as he dropped a 
handful of dead leaves and twigs upon their up- 
turned faces. 

^‘Anything doing?” called Uncle, impatient 
as a boy. 

”Not yet,” said Rob, letting more leaves flut- 
ter down. Then, with a whoop of delight, he 
tossed down the hair-pin so lately stolen. 

”By golly!” he cried. ” Uncle, you just 
ought to see what’s here!” And, much to 
Elizabeth’s disgust, he began leisurely examin- 
ing the things and dropping them into his 
pocket. 

”Why, Uncle, I feel like I’d robbed a bank,” 
he said laughing, as he slid down to the ground. 
”I think I’ve found everything she’s lost for 
a year. And I’ll tell you, Mr. Crow has got 
some surprise coming to him. ’ ’ 

So triumphantly they tramped back to the 
house, where Rob laughingly unloaded his pock- 
ets. The woman’s hair-pin was first dropped 
into her lap, then a silver thimble, now dull and 
black, a tiny pair of scissors, and an emery bag. 
”Used it to sharpen his beak upon,” Rob sug- 
gested. 

” Evidently your work-basket was his main 


62 


LITTLE FOLKS 


source of supply,’^ laughed Uncle, as Eob laid 
down a little nickeled tape-measure. 

^‘That,’’ said the woman ^s husband, who had 
come in during their absence, “is one of the 
things the crow and our little boy played with. 
Charley would hold the case, and Jim Crow 
would pull the tape out as far as it would go, 
and then let it fly back with a snap. When it 
snapped he always gave a squawk and jumped 
about two feet in the air. But he was always 
ready to come right hack into the game. ’ ’ 

As the children laughed at this little story, 
Eob handed the delighted wife a quarter, a 
silver spoon, a kitchen spoon, and several bright 
bits of tin. At last he hesitated, then took rev- 
erently from his pocket the tin-type picture of a 
little boy. 

“I expect you’ll be glad to get this,” he 
said, with boyish shyness of sentiment in any 
form, as he put it into her hand. It was a pic- 
ture of the little lost son, who loved the crow. 

“How very strange,” said Elizabeth, as they 
walked wearily toward the car, “that the crow 
should have stolen a picture of his little play- 
fellow. Do you suppose, Uncle, that the crow 
could see the likeness to the little boy?” 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 63 

But Uncle, smiling, shook his head. ‘^No, 
I afraid not, ^ [ he said. ‘ ‘ He is such a scamp 
that he doesn^t seem able to resist the tempta- 
tion to steal anything bright he comes across, — 
if, in fact, he ever tries to resist it.^’ 

So, well satisfied with their first tramp, they 
entered the car and rode home, their stomachs 
very empty, their minds very full of new ideas 
and interests. 


CHAPTER V 


A FEBEUAEY WALK 

“When he heard the owl at midnight, 

Hooting, laughing in the forest. 

‘What is thatf he cried in terror, 

‘What is that,’ he said, ‘Nokomis?’ 

And the good Nokomis answered, 

‘That is but the owl and owlet.’ ” 

Hiawatha. Longfellow. 

The sun rising clear on the last day of Febru- 
ary, as he peeped in at the windows of the Mars- 
den home, met five eager faces peeping back 
at him. It was a sharp, cold morning, and 
Uncle, turning over for his last snug morning 
nap, was unceremoniously roused by two small 
feet planted firmly in the pit of his stomach, and 
a sturdy form settling itself upon his broad 
chest. 

‘‘The birdies are up. Uncle. They^s up an’ 
gettin’ their bekfusM” was shouted in his ear. 

Uncle pulled himself reluctantly out of his 
dreams, made his great body very lumpy, and 
then, suddenly rolling over, tumbled little Jim 
64 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 65 

off among the pillows, and bounced Sherburne 
off onto the floor. 

A hasty breakfast followed, and an hour later 
a merry party of young folks was tramping over 
the country roads. 

‘T do wonder what we shall see to-day,’’ said 
Elizabeth, scanning the trees on either side, 
eager to be the first to see ^^a new bird.” 

^Tt looks woodsy enough for lots of birds,” 
commented Rob. 

^^We are going straight into the woods,” said 
Uncle, leading the way. ‘^Now go softly, little 
folks. You may wander about where you 
please, but don’t go out of calling distance. 
When you find anything interesting, call the 
rest of us. Use your whistles, and don’t be 
noisy and frighten the birds. ’ ’ Uncle had pro- 
vided the children with musical silver whistles, 
among other things, but, in their excitement 
over some discovery, they were seldom used. 

With these brief directions, the children sep- 
arated, and wandered happily about for half 
an hour. The twins, half afraid of the chill, 
silent woods, kept near their uncle. Rob had 
soon explored several tree-tops, peeping into 
last-year’s birds’ nests, and Elizabeth wandered 


66 


LITTLE FOLKS 


happily along, scanning the bare branches of 
the trees with her glass. Suddenly Caroline’s 
lively feet, which had soon carried her far ahead 
of the rest of the party, were heard returning 
at a surprising speed, and Uncle was not a little 
alarmed to hear her give loud cries of fear as 
she ran, looking anxiously back over her shoul- 
der. 

^‘What was it, Caroline U’ he asked, as he 
drew her into the shelter of his strong arm. 

^Tt was an awful bird!” she cried, trembling 
nervously. ^Tt had awful eyes and it turned 
clear around to watch me! I ’most believe it 
was a witch ! ’ ’ 

‘ ^ Ah, ha ! ” laughed Uncle. ‘ ‘ So Mr. and Mrs. 
Owl are setting up housekeeping in these woods, 
are they? I wonder which Owl family it is. 
Let me see, this is the twenty-eighth of Febru- 
ary. Now Mr. and Mrs. G. H. Owl like to go to 
housekeeping early. I wonder if it could have 
been he.” 

‘‘Mr. G. H. Owl?” repeated Elizabeth, won- 
dering if Uncle was making sport of them. 
“What do you mean. Uncle?” 

“Why, Mr. Great Horned Owl, of course!” 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 67 

he answered. ‘^He goes to housekeeping as 
early as the first of February sometimes. ’ ^ 

As he spoke they had drawn near the dw’ell- 
ing-place of the owls, Caroline keeping well be- 
hind her uncle ^s coat-tails. 

‘‘There he is,’^ she whispered, as they came 
to a great oak-tree, one branch of which seemed 
to be dead, and showed a large hole in the side. 
Looking out from this hole sat Madam Owl, and 
by her side her husband. What great fellows 
they were ! Almost two feet high, their large 
ear-tufts standing upright, their great eyes 
very wide open. Looking so solemn, they were 
enough to frighten any little maid. 

“I thought owls slept in the daytime,’^ cried 
Rob, surprised to see their eyes open. 

“They do,’’ answered Uncle. “And they do 
their work at night, for they can see in the 
dark. They have two pairs of eyelids, one pair 
of which they close when awake in the daytime. 
Besides this the eye is peculiar, because it is 
fixed in the socket and cannot be turned from 
side to side, as yours can. So the poor fellow 
has to turn his head around as far as it will go, 
and that is pretty far, whenever he looks about 


68 


LITTLE FOLKS 


him; or else he must turn his whole body. He 
can also tip it so far back that it rests upon his 
shoulders, and seems about to fall off. There 
is a funny story told,^’ he continued in a whis- 
per, ‘‘of a little boy who walked around and 
around an owl, many times, staring curiously 
at it. The bird watching him, also curious, per- 
haps frightened, twisted his head around, fol- 
lowing the boy’s movements, until finally the 
unhappy creature twisted his head quite off!” 

While the children were trying to suppress 
their giggles at this story. Uncle suddenly 
stepped out in full view of the owls, and, with 
a whoop, threw his arms about his head. With 
a blood-curdling yell that sent Caroline quite 
under her uncle’s coat-tails, and made even 
Elizabeth shrink closer behind a friendly tree, 
the great owls, their soft, thick plumage making 
their flight absolutely noiseless, disappeared 
in the woods. 

“I wanted you to hear their sweet voices,” 
said Uncle laughing; “and, indeed, I should 
not be sorry to frighten them quite away.” 

“Why, Uncle?” asked Bob. “I thought you 
told us that owls are useful, killing snakes and 
mice and things of that sort. ’ ’ 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 69 

^‘They are,’’ answered Uncle, ^‘but this owl 
kills also song-birds, game-birds, doves, and 
young chickens. They do more harm than all 
other owls combined. Let ’s see if they have left 
any eggs in the nest. ’ ’ 

So saying, up the tree like a boy he went, ran 
his hand down in the dark hole, and, much to his 
own surprise, brought up two funny, fuzzy, 
sputtering baby owls newly hatched. Caroline 
fairly screamed with delight when she saw their 
comical, sleepy faces, and the others begged to 
take them home for Marshall to photograph. 
After much discussion Uncle decided to carry 
one home to Marshall, and Rob promised to 
bring it back to its parents the next day, for, as 
much as Uncle wanted the owls exterminated, 
he could not make up his mind to kill these help- 
less little fellows. 

As they wandered on, Elizabeth’s attention 
was called to a little bird in a thorn-bush, flut- 
tering about in a most peculiar way. Going 
closer, she gave a wail of dismay that brought 
Uncle quickly to her side. 

‘ ^ Oh, ’ ’ she cried, ‘ ‘ some cruel, wicked boy has 
stuck a bird on a thorn, and the poor little 
thing isn ’t dead ! ^ ’ The tears stood in her soft 


LITTLE FOLKS 


70 

brown eyes as she begged Uncle to, ^‘Come quick 
and take it off ! ’ ’ 

‘‘No boy did this, I am happy to say,’’ said 
Uncle, as he tenderly released the unhappy little 
creature, who was impaled through one wing. 
“We probably frightened away a butcher-bird, 
or, to be more correct, a great northern shrike. 
See, here is another of his victims. This one 
is quite dead.” And he showed them a wee 
field-mouse on a thorn. “Some believe that 
the shrike kills more of these little creatures 
than he needs, for sheer love of killing, but I 
think they misjudge him.” 

“Where do you suppose he went. Uncle?” 
asked Eob, eager to see this cannibal. 

“Look for a bird about the size of a robin,” 
Uncle answered, “high up on the branch of a 
tree, from where he can have a good lookout 
around him. He will be dressed in gray, with 
black wings and tail, and a black mark on each 
side of his head.” 

With glasses to their eyes, they stumbled 
along some distance farther, and then, as the 
twins were tired, and the others a little bit dis- 
couraged at not finding the shrike at once, they 
turned toward home. As they rambiecf leis- 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 71 

urely along, scanning the tree-tops with their 
glasses, a shont from Rob, who was a little 
ahead of the others, attracted their attention. 
He was gesticulating wildly, pointing mys- 
teriously above his head. As they drew near, 
high up on a branch they saw the bird they 
sought, far more beautiful than they had hoped 
to find one with so bad a name. In his soft 
gray, Quakerish dress, he did not look the part 
of a villain at all. His hooked beak alone gave 
him the appearance of a bird of prey. 

‘^Oh, you rascal!^’ cried Uncle, playfully 
shaking his fist at the bird. ‘^You may mean 
well, but if you would only use a different 
method of putting your meat in cold storage, 
you would be a more welcome visitor. Now 
you’d better be getting back to your northern 
home before any more of our little summer 
friends get back.” 

^‘What makes him put them on thorns. 
Uncle?” asked Rob. 

^^And is that why people speak of being ‘on 
thorns’?” cried Elizabeth. 

“One question at a time,” laughed Uncle. 
“We think, Rob, that he has acquired this bad 
habit from the fact that his feet are so small 


LITTLE FOLKS 


72 

and weak that with them alone he cannot hold 
his little victims, such as mice and birds, while 
he tears them to pieces. So he fastens them 
upon a thorn, much as you have seen a butcher 
throw a piece of meat over a hook, and thus 
he prevents the little creatures from escaping 
while he tears them to pieces. If he would only 
kill what he needs for food at the time, it would 
not be so bad, but he is too good a provider, 
and puts more than he needs into his thorny 
cupboard. And the worst feature of all is, that 
he does not always kill them, but leaves them 
quivering there until they die, as he did the 
little one I put in my pocket.^’ 

‘^Oh, did youT’ cried the children, much 
pleased. 

‘‘What kind of a bird is asked Eob. 

“Oh, let me carry it,^^ begged Caroline. 

But Uncle shook his head, saying, as he set- 
tled it more comfortably in his pocket: “It is 
a little song-sparrow. Bob. No, Caroline, we 
must be very careful with it. We will take it 
home to Marshall, and perhaps he can nurse it 
back to health, as only its wing seems to be 
hurt.^^ 

As he finished speaking, James ^ head bumped 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 73 

against his, for the tired little fellow had fallen 
asleep on his shoulder, where for some time he 
and Sherburne had been taking turns in riding. 
So they hurried home, well pleased with their 
morning’s adventures, and hungry enough to 
eat a second breakfast, which ’Merica had 
awaiting them. But first they must rush to 
Marshall, who was delighted with the ^ ‘ trophies 
of the chase, ” as he called the injured bird and 
the little owl, and give him an eager descrip- 
tion of their tramp. 


CHAPTEE VI 


A SNOW-STORM AND VISITORS 

“Now I greet ye hardy tribes, 

Snowy owl and night-black crow, 

Starling with your wild halloo ! 

Blue Jay screaming with the wind. 

In the tree-tops gaunt and thinned; 

» * ♦ * ♦ 

“Nuthatch, Snow-bird, Chickadee, 

Downy trapper on the tree; 

And you twittering goldfinch drove 
(Masked in gray), that blithely rove. 

Where the herby pastures show 
Tables set above the snow. 

« * * * m 

“Winter comrades, well betide ye, 

Friendly trunk and hollow hide ye. 

Hemlock branches interlace 

When the Northern Blast gives chase.’^ 

Every day found the restaurant more popular 
with the birds. As often happens in this north- 
ern part of our land, after a few days of al- 
most springlike weather there came a spell of 
bitter cold. The morning of the twentieth of 
March dawned clear, but a heavy snow had fal- 
len in the night. 


74 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 75 

When Marshall awoke and looked out upon 
the still, white world, he smiled mournfully at 
the little bird-houses almost hidden beneath 
their white burden, and wondered what his little 
feathered friends, accustomed to find their 
breakfast served upon their private lunch- 
counter, would do when they found that it had 
quite disappeared. While he lay looking out 
at the strange new world which had been born in 
the night. Mamma tiptoed into the room, fol- 
lowed by Uncle, armed with a broom and snow- 
shovel. 

‘‘Whatever are you going to doP’ cried 
Marshall, wide-awake and eager. 

“You didn’t think I was going to let the 
birds starve this cold morning, did you?” 
answered Uncle. And going out on the porch, 
he began shoveling the snow in great heaps 
down upon the children, who were busily shov- 
eling paths in the yard below. As might be ex- 
pected, a commotion followed. 

“No fair! No fair!” cried Elizabeth. 
“Don’t you dare sweep that down on our nice 
clean paths!” 

But her upturned face and laughing mouth 
received a shovelful of snow for reply, and her 


76 LITTLE FOLKS 

further words were drowned in spluttering 
squeals. 

Dropping her shovel, she began pelting her 
uncle with snowballs, and in another moment 
the whole party below had turned upon him, and 
he had much ado to defend himself against five 
eager enemies. Snowballs and clouds of snow 
flew thick and fast for the next ten minutes. 
Mamma stood by MarshalPs bedside, almost 
trembling to hear his unaccustomed shouts of 
laughter when a well-aimed ball struck Uncle 
squarely in the face. 

Uncle’s ammunition was soon exhausted, and 
the veranda and lunch-counter in a few mo- 
ments lay bare and clean, save for a few be- 
lated snow-balls sent after his retreating figure. 

‘‘We’ll have some visitors to-day,” said he to 
Marshall, as he took the birds’ breakfast from 
Mamma’s hand and began to sprinkle it gen- 
erously upon the lunch-counter. “I wouldn’t 
wonder if we had some unusual visitors,” he 
continued, smiling mysteriously at the lad. 

The children’s work completed, they tramped 
in to breakfast, rosy and hungry, starving, one 
might have thought, to see the amount they 
ate. During the meal America appeared with 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 77 

the announcement, ^ ^ Mastah Ma ’shall done said 
to tell you-all dat Downy, an’ red-head an’ dat 
sassy jay-bird, an’ de cunnin’ li’l chickadee,” 
counting them off on her black fingers, ^‘an’ de 
sparrers done all had dey-all’s breakfus 
a ’ready. ’ ’ 

‘^And,” said Uncle gravely, at the conclusion 
of her long speech, ‘^probably they would not 
have had any breakfast at all this morning if 
they had not found it at our lunch-counter. 
And very likely they would have suffered much 
through this cold spell.” 

^‘But we can’t go for our tramp to-day,” 
sighed Elizabeth. 

‘^Not even in rubber boots!” cried Rob, much 
disappointed. 

‘T may take you older ones for a short walk,” 
consoled Uncle. ^‘But it is too cold and the 
snow is too deep for the little ones. I think 
even you older ones will find it pretty hard 
tramping to-day. ’ ’ 

‘‘Who is the ‘little ones’!” cried Caroline, 
jumping up from her chair to put her arm coax- 
ingly about her uncle’s shoulders, hoping that 
she might not be in that class. 

“I don’t think that we shall see much,” con- 


LITTLE FOLKS 


78 

tinned Uncle smiling, ‘^but I thought it might 
be well for us to scatter a little grain, and put 
out some su*et, where the snow is not too deep, 
in our nearest woods. 

^‘You great-hearted fellow,’’ cried Mamma, 
smiling at him. ‘T don’t see how you can ever 
operate on people or do any of those dreadful 
things doctors have to do sometimes.” 

‘T don’t — much,” he answered, laughing a 
little whimsically. ‘‘Not half enough to make 
me rich, at any rate. ’ ’ 

When he and the children returned from their 
walk, America met them at the corner. “You- 
all is to go in the back way,” she exclaimed, a 
quarter of a block away from them, pointing 
mysteriously back toward the yard. 

Uncle’s thoughts flew to Marshall in sudden 
alarm, but he was quickly reassured when she 
continued in a husky whisper, “ Mastah Ma ’shall 
done says as how dere’s a flock of new birds in 
de pine-tree, an he’s afeard you-all’ll scar ’em 
away.” Marshall’s enthusiasm was plainly re- 
flected in her kindly, shiny black face. 

Snapping his fingers like a school-boy. Uncle 
exclaimed, as he led the children around to the 



“Just as I thought. Grosbeaks, and crossbills, and 

REDPOLLS ” — Page 79. 


1 



TRAMPING AND CAMPING 79 

back gate, ‘‘Pine-grosbeaks, siskins, or cross- 
bills, Vll hetV^ 

America, catching the last words, answered: 
“Yes sah, deir bills is mosdy all crossed, sah. 
Look lak dey inakin’ faces at you all de time/’ 

“Good! Good!” cried Uncle, laughing at 
her description. “Now youdl see a pretty 
sight ! I scarcely dared hope for so much good 
fortune.” 

And the children agreed with him when they 
gathered about Marshall’s windows. There 
stood the great pine-tree, still bearing its bur- 
den of snow upon its dark green bosom, and flit- 
ting here and there among the branches, scat- 
tering little flurries of snow as they flew, were 
many birds of several kinds. Uncle’s eyes 
sparkled as he named them to the children. 

“Just as I thought,” he cried. “Grosbeaks, 
and crossbills, and redpolls, — all come down 
from the north especially to make us a visit! 
What a harvest ! It is far better than I dared 
to hope. Sometimes, when there comes a very 
severe cold spell, as now, these little fellows 
wander down here in search of food ; and when 
they do, they are apt to gather in flocks wher- 


8o 


LITTLE FOLKS 


ever they find the best feeding-grounds. In no 
other way would you be likely to see so many 
kinds of these little winterbirds together. 
There are three kinds which we do not have 
here in the winter except as visitors^ — the cross- 
bills, redpolls, and grosbeaks. The others 
that you see have probably been about the town 
or country all winter. Those are the first gold- 
finches you have ever seen in the winter, are 
they not? he asked. 

‘‘G-oldfinchesr’ questioned Elizabeth, peer- 
ing about among the branches of the trees. 
donT see any.^^ Even Marshall looked puz- 
zled as he scanned the tree for the well-known 
little yellow-and-black bird. 

Those little light olive-brown birds, ex- 
plained Uncle, ‘‘with just a suspicion of yel- 
low about their heads and under-parts, are 
goldfinches in their winter plumage. They 
often stay about in the winter.’^ 

“Well, I think they’d better change their 
names,” laughed Eob, “when they change their 
duds.” 

“Those funny, crooked-nosed birds. Uncle,” 
cried Caroline eagerly, “what are they? They 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 8i 

don’t look as if they could eat with their m’ouths 
all twisted that way.” 

''Are they hurted?” asked little Sherburne 
anxiously. 

"No, no,” laughed Uncle, tousling the boy’s 
hair affectionately. "They are American 
crossbills. A long name, eh? You can see 
how they come to have such a name. Now 
watch them tear the seeds from the pine-cones 
and you will see how well they can use those 
awkward-looking beaks. ’ ’ 

"Except for their beaks,” said Mamma, who 
loved color, "they are beautiful birds. That 
soft, dull red of their plumage against the 
green-and- white tree is very pretty. ’ ’ 

"Yes,” agreed Uncle. "And what do you 
think of those other birds with brown wings 
and tails? They are pine-grosbeaks. Isn’t 
that rosy-red plumage of the heads and tails 
beautiful? See how fearless they are. The 
female is not so pretty, as we shall usually find 
the case, with her brown and yellow tints. 
Notice their huge beaks that have given them 
their name of gros — or great — beaks.” 

"How funny,” giggled Caroline, "to be 


82 


LITTLE FOLKS 


name^ for your looks ! 0 dear, I shouldn’t like 
to be named Caroline Longlegs ! ’ ’ 

‘‘Nor I Elizabeth Littlenose,” cried Eliza- 
beth, grasping that member in both hands. 

“Well,” cried Eob, in scornful superiority, 
“it’s the way people used to be named, a long 
time ago.” 

Before he could finish his speech Caroline in- 
terrupted him, much to his chagrin, exclaiming, 
“Ho ! Ho ! Then you’d be Eob Freckleface if 
they did it now ! ” 

But as Eob was forcibly suppressing her fur- 
ther remarks, and Mamma was quieting the tu- 
mult that had begun, Elizabeth asked, “What 
are those plump little birds with brown wings 
and tails and rosy breasts, Uncle? They are 
such cozy-looking little birds, so fluffy and 
soft.” 

“Those are redpolls,” answered Uncle. 
“See how fearlessly they, too, fly about our 
lunch-counte-r. They are not at all timid. 
Ah,” he continued, turning to Marshall, and 
laying his hand on the camera which stood close 
by his couch, “I see that you have been using 
this* Making any notes for me as well?” 

“Yes; and. Uncle, I think that Trix has been 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 83 

making notes of some sort, too. She has stayed 
in her cage nearly all morning, watching the 
birds, and has seemed just as if she understood 
something about them, or wanted to say some- 
thing to them.’’ 

The little song-sparrow which they had 
rescued from the shrike, had become so tame 
that she was nearly always allowed the free- 
dom of Marshall’s room. Enjoying her cun- 
ning ways, the children had named her Tricksy, 
which was soon shortened to Trix. 

‘‘Perhaps there is a song-sparrow out there 
among the birds,” suggested Uncle, his eyes 
searching the trees and the two or three birds 
on the lunch-counter. 

Just then Sherburne’s bright eyes spied a wee 
brown head on the perch of the wren-house. 

‘ ‘ Come here ! ” he cried, much excited, falling 
over Marshall’s couch in his eagerness to get 
hold of his uncle. “The wren’s come! He’s 
come! He has!” Flocking closer to the win- 
dows, the children startled the little creature, 
and he flew to a tree near by. 

“There’s the attraction for Trix,” laughed 
Uncle, pointing toward it. 

“It’s another song-sparrow, one of her own 


84 TRAMPING AND CAMPING 

tribe, and Trix could see him from the cage.’^ 

^^Poor little thing! How lonely it must have 
made her!^’ cried Aunty sympathetically. 

‘H wonder if he saw her,’’ said Marshall. 

‘‘Was flirting with her most likely,” said 
Uncle gayly. 

All day they watched these strange little 
winter visitors that lingered about the yard and 
lunch-counter, and in his note-book that night 
Marshall had the following note : 

“March 23. — Ten inches of snow and 15° 
above zero. At 10 a. m. appeared in our pine 
tree and on our lunch-counter pine-grosbeaks, 
American crossbills, and redpolls, from the 
north; also goldfinches and snow-buntings, 
which may have been around here all winter, but 
which we had not seen before, besides our usual 
visitors. We notice that the birds seldom visit 
the lunch-counter in flocks of various kinds at 
one time. Usually the larger and stronger 
birds, such as woodpeckers and blue jays, come 
first. Then follow the sparrows, and after 
them the smaller birds. At 3 p. m. the visitors 
began to leave, and at 5 p. m. were all gone.” 


CHAPTER VII 


HOUSEKEEPING 

“His mother was the Brook, and his sisters were the 
Reeds, 

And they every one applauded when he sang about his 
^ deeds. 

His vest was white, his mantle brown, as clear as they 
could be; 

And his songs were fairly bubbling o^er with melody and 
glee. 

But an envious neighbor splashed with mud our Brownie's 
coat and vest. 

And a final handful threw, that stuck upon his breast. 
The Brook bird's mother did her best to wash the stains 
awa;^. 

But they stuck, and, as it seems, are very like to stay. 
And so he wears the splotches and the mud-blotch as you 
see. 

But his songs are bubbling over still, with melody and glee." 

The next day Uncle suggested that they 
should bring Tricksy ^s cage out-of-doors near 
the wren-house, that she might be cheered by 
a glimpse of the other song-sparrow. 

‘‘The snow is still deep,’’ he explained, “and 
little Mr. Song-Sparrow can probably find more 
to eat here than anywhere else, so he will very 
likely come back.” 


85 


86 


LITTLE FOLKS 


So saying, he hung the cage on the veranda 
in the sunshine. Little Trix fluffed up her 
feathers and seemed somewhat disconcerted 
when she first felt the sharp, cold air. After 
a while she became much excited, fluttering 
about the cage and giving strange, loud calls. 
Soon the children saw the male sparrow in a 
pine tree, and in a few moments he was eating 
greedily of the free lunch, while little Trix tried 
in every way she knew to attract his attention. 
The children kept very still, and Marshall lay 
propped up with pillows, his hand on the bulb 
of the camera, its lens pointing straight at the 
bird-cage. When Caroline was growing very 
tired of waiting, and the twins had deserted 
entirely, the song-bird finished his luncheon, 
gave a funny little chirp or two, as if about to 
sing, fluffed up his feathers, cocked his head at 
Trix, as if to say, ‘^WhaCs all this fuss about, 
anyway r’ and flew straight to her cage, as if 
that had been his first intention, and quite all 
that he had come for. At his approach Trix 
became more excited than ever, not attempting 
to conceal her delight, and, forgetting her sore 
little wing, fluttered from perch to perch, twit- 
tering noisily. The stranger made a few re- 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 87 

marks to her, and then started to fly away. 
The little prisoner called frantically, clinging 
to the bars of her cage, and, after a doubtful 
moment or two he again alighted upon the little 
ledge around her prison. This time, still cling- 
ing to the side of the cage close by him, she 
twittered softly to him for a moment, then, 
proving again the old proverb that the ‘‘nearest 
way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,” 
she flew to her seed-cup, took a seed daintily in 
her beak, and presented it to her little lover 
through the bars of her cage. The children 
softly clapped their hands, delighted with the 
pretty little scene. The little suitor accepted 
her offering, and then flew to the top of her cage 
and poured out his love for her in exquisite 
song. 

“Oh, let her out!” cried Elizabeth, pity for 
the little creature welling up in her heart. 

But the little ones shouted, “No! No!” and 
Marshall looked questioningly at his uncle. 

“It would not be safe yet,” said Uncle, 
answering the question in the boy’s eyes. ‘ ‘ She 
could never escape from a cat with her wing in 
that condition. It is still too sore. So it 
would not be a kindness to set her free. Per- 


88 


LITTLE FOLKS 


haps she can coax Mr. Song-Sparrow to stay 
about until she is quite well again.'’ 

And such proved to be what happened, for 
each day when her cage was hung out in the 
sunshine, with a cloth over the side toward the 
wind, the little male returned to his place on the 
ledge, she fed him dainties from her cup, and 
he always returned thanks in a burst of song. 

On the fifth day after her little lover came, 
Uncle examined the injured wing, and, finding 
it quite recovered, he encouraged her to fly 
about the room to strengthen it. 

The next day he hung the cage out-of-doors, 
with the door opened wide, while the children 
stood watching her, with eyes filled with tears. 
She had become a charming little pet, and it was 
hard to give her up. She did not offer to leave 
the cage, however, apparently not seeing the 
open door. But when Mr. Sparrow came she 
went straight to the door, and plainly coaxed 
him to come in. He resisted all her entreaties, 
however, and after she had brought him several 
seeds they flew away together. 

^‘And that is the last we shall see of 
Tricksy," sighed Marshall, as he watched them 
go. 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 89 

Leave the cage out/^ suggested Uncle, when 
he noticed the wet eyes about him, ^‘and she 
may come hack to-night.’’ 

They followed his suggestion, and that night, 
when they carried the cage in, though no one 
had seen her return, Mrs. Trix was in her usual 
place, curled up on a perch. And every night 
for a long time she returned to her voluntary 
prison. 

One morning in April she returned to the 
cage, looking very important and carrying a 
twig in her beak. 

‘‘Well! Well!” exclaimed Uncle. “Can it 
be that a song-sparrow will nest in a cage? She 
does choose the most unexpected places for 
her nest, but, as you boys would say, ‘this would 
be the limit’! Still the song-sparrow is con- 
stantly surprising us. He has a variety of 
songs; he has no set pattern for his nest; and 
even when the little wife lays her eggs, she 
sometimes lays no two alike.” 

But after many trials at placing the twig, she 
flew away with it in her beak, probably to 
choose a more * suitable place. The children 
wondered if she was as much disappointed as 
they were at her failure to nest in the cage. 


LITTLE FOLKS 


90 

April had been a busy time for the children 
as well as the birds, for two pairs of martins 
had set up housekeeping in the ‘‘martin flats,” 
and two plump bluebirds had taken possession 
of the rustic cottage built for them, much to 
Caroline's amazement. 

“For,” said she, “we didn^t mark it, and how 
could they know it was meant for them?” 

Little Madam Nuthatch in the back-yard was 
very much occupied with some business of her 
own, out of sight of prying eyes, deep in the 
hole in the tree in the back-yard, from which she 
had routed Caroline so effectually. 

And besides all these to be watched and stud- 
ied, the little kinglet needed constant attention. 
He was quite well now, but for some reason 
which he did not see fit to tell, Uncle had not yet 
told the children to set the little fellow free. 

And now in the very last week of April Mar- • 
shall was awakened one morning by a burst of 
song that astonished him. 

“A wren!” he cried aloud, for Marshall was 
familiar with many of our commoner birds. 
And, raising up in bed, he could see Mr. Wren 
standing on his housetop in his trim brown 
suit, neatly barred Avith black, his little tail held 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 91 

at the most correct angle, while the song fairly 
gushed from his little throat. Having finished 
his ‘‘voluntary,’^ he examined the little house 
from foundation to root. ‘‘Which wasn’t a bit 
polite,” said Caroline, “when it was given to 
him.” But Uncle reminded her that he had 
Jenny Wren to please, and that was not always 
an easy task. 

Satisfied with the little house himself, the 
little master did not wait for Jenny’s approval, 
but at once began bringing twigs to furnish it. 
How he worked ! Really he seemed, after a day 
or so, to have brought enough rubbish to fill the 
house, instead of furnishing the nursery. 
About five days after he began to work Jenny 
appeared. She made even a closer inspection 
of the house and premises than her little lord 
had done. She even clung to the window-screen 
and studied Marshall for a moment. 

“All right, old lady? Am I satisfactory? 
Will I pass ? ’ ’ laughed Marshall. 

Then chirping contemptuously, as if to say, 
“He’s just some great harmless bird in a queer 
kind of a nest,” she turned her attention to the 
house again, and soon began chattering ir- 
ritably at Johnny, who had been anxiously fol- 


LITTLE FOLKS 


92 

lowing her about, telling him plainly, the chil- 
dren thought, that ‘^she guessed she could make 
it do/^ 

Then she went inside the little house and went 
to work. She spent some time pulling out many 
of the twigs Johnny had so laboriously gathered. 
These she threw scornfully to the ground, while 
her little lord, evidently new to the housekeep- 
ing business, looked on much distressed, occa- 
sionally bringing back one of the twigs and pre- 
senting it to her in deep humility. She always 
took them, dropping them contemptuously at 
once. 

At last they flew away together, their day’s 
work done, and Uncle, taking the box from 
where it hung, brought it in to show the children 
the little birds’ wonderful work, quoting as he 
came : 

“So the bluebirds have contracted, have they, for a house? 
And a nest is under way for little Mr. Wren? 

Hush! dear, hush! Be quiet dear, quiet as a mouse. 

For these are mighty secrets and we must whisper them.” 

Pushing back the sliding top, he showed them 
the box, filled quite to the top with twigs. But 
from the little round door, to a corner at the 
back, Jenny Wren had made a neat little tunnel. 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 93 

or ‘^hallway/’ the children called it, and there, 
safely canopied by t’wigs, was the unfinished 
nest. 

Uncle carefully replaced the little house after 
the children had admired the birds ^ work, and 
the next morning the little pair went happily to 
work again, never dreaming that the secret of 
their little home had been discovered. 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE CHILDEEN ENTEETAIN A STEANGEE 

Along the glades, a solitary guest, 

The hollow-sounding bittern guards its nest/' 

The last day of April dawned cloudy and dis- 
agreeable. The south, from which we feel we 
have a right to look for soft, warm breezes, had 
turned traitor, and was sending a cold, raw 
wind, with dashes of colder rain. 

The children gathered about the breakfast- 
table their faces reflecting the weather, but hop- 
ing audibly that Uncle would suggest some de- 
lightful way to spend such a disagreeable Sat- 
urday. Their weekly holiday had come to be 
welcomed as the day for a tramp, and since 
Uncle came, when the weather proved too bad 
for them to go, they felt themselves personally 
ill used. 

Their hopes of a tramp were quickly dashed 
to-day, and their faces grew woefully long, when 
Uncle announced, as he folded his napkin, that 
he should leave for the city on an early car, 


94 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 95 

and not return until dinner-time. His words 
were received with a wail of protest from the 
little folks, doubled and trebled when Mamma 
said: Aunty and I are also going into the 

city to-day to do some shopping and visit our 
dressmaker. We shall lunch with Papa, and 
you would better join us.^’ 

The children were in despair. A whole rainy 
day without Mamma, Papa, Aunty, or Uncle! 
It was more than they could be expected to bear 
cheerfully ! 

‘‘Take us! Take us!’’ cried the twins, 
quickly thinking of that way in which to solve 
their share of the difficulty. 

And, as Mamma shook her head, Elizabeth 
asked, “Why, Mamma, who will take care of 
Marshall for a whole day?” 

“I have arranged for Mrs. Wilbur to stay 
with him to-day,” Mamma answered. “And 
Rob can help to entertain him for an hour or 
so.” 

Rob groaned, not at the task of entertaining 
Marshall, for he loved and admired his elder 
brother, but because he had no liking for the 
elderly woman in question, a sort of practical 
nurse, who no longer took charge of cases that 


LITTLE FOLKS 


96 

required any skillful nursing. She had several 
times taken care of these children when their 
parents were out of the city. 

Caroline made a naughty face at the prospect 
before them, and Elizabeth frowned darkly, se- 
cretly resolved that Mrs. Wilbur should see 
very little of her. 

‘‘May I ask Isabel to lunch she asked hope- 
fully, after a moment of silence. Isabel was 
one of her neighborhood companions, a merry 
girl, bubbling over with fun. 

“Certainly,’’ answered Mamma pleasantly. 
This settled, Elizabeth’s face brightened a lit- 
tle. “And may we get luncheon?” she con- 
tinued. 

“I will arrange with cook that you shall 
help,” said Mamma, smiling cheerfully. 

“How will you boys pass the day?” asked 
Uncle, addressing Eob, who slouched over his 
plate with a disappointed face. 

“I dunno,” growled Eob, still cross at the 
prospect of Mrs. Wilbur’s visit. 

“Guess I’ll go out with some of the fellows 
around here.” 

“You would better put on your boots when 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 97 

the rain stops and go for a tramp, suggested 
Uncle. The boy’s face brightened. ^‘Out past 
the old mill and through the marsh I think you 
might find something interesting. ’ ’ Rob looked 
up, smiling a little through his scowls. 

The twins and Caroline were never at a loss 
for amusement, and were already planning frol- 
ics under their breath that probably meant 
trouble for Mammy Mec. 

The four grown folks left early, and the chil- 
dren passed an uneventful morning. Elizabeth 
and Isabel were closeted in the kitchen behind 
locked doors, occupied with some weighty se- 
crets, — or perhaps cooking secrets should be 
light ones, — and, to the boys’ delight, at noon 
they served some very creditable dishes. 

After luncheon Rob strode off in his high 
boots, feeling very manly and superior to the 
girls, who could not go out in such weather. 
The little folks, finding that the rain had ceased 
at last, left Elizabeth and her little guest dis- 
cussing big-girl affairs, and went out in the yard 
to play. Nothing seemed interesting to-day, for 
some reason or other, and they wandered lone- 
somely about. At last they concluded to take 


LITTLE FOLKS 


98 

a little walk by themselves. They wandered off 
gayly, neglecting, of course, to put on their 
rubber boots. 

Not far from their suburban home were sev- 
eral vacant lots, low and marshy, in which Uncle 
had told them they would probably see red- 
winged black-birds in the spring. Now these 
little folks imagined that bird to be a large and 
gorgeous creature with wings of brightest scar- 
let, spread wide as he flew. Of course they no 
sooner thought of it, than they must begin the 
search. In two minutes their thin shoes were 
heavy with mud, and soaking wet, but little they 
cared. On they tramped, and did indeed see a 
^ ‘ red-wing, ’ ^ though they never knew it, so un- 
like it was the magnificent bird which they had 
imagined. 

Suddenly to their ears came the strangest 
sound that they had ever heard in all their short 
lives. It was not a pleasant sound, and evi- 
dently came from a short distance beyond where 
they were standing. The little folks stopped 
short in alarm. 

‘^What is thatr^ cried Caroline, grasping 
James firmly by a coat-sleeve. ‘Tt^s in the 
ground ! ^ ’ 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 99 

‘^Plunk-a-plunk!^’ came the strange sound 
again. ‘ ^ Plunk ! Plunk-a-plunk ! ’ ’ 

‘TCs only somebody pounding/^ suggested 
Sherburne. ‘‘Maybe somebody’s cutting down 
a tree.” 

“No! No !” cried more timid Caroline. “It’s 
something big, and awful ^ and live!'^ bringing 
out each word with more emphasis than the one 
before, the last one being almost drowned in a 
howl of fright, for she was thoroughly fright- 
ened. 

“Plunk-a-plunk! Plunk-a-plunk!” came the 
cry again, distinctly. 

“I-I-know!” stammered James, much ex- 
cited. “It’s a-a- h-h-bullfrog ! Rob tolled me 
all about ’em. V ey go like vat ! Rob said vey 
do ! ” James always mispronounced th when he 
was much excited. 

So they went cautiously forward a few steps, 
James assuring Caroline that “Bullfrogs don’t 
bite, ever. Rob said so.” Which definitely 
settled any doubtful question for James. 

Suddenly rising “right up out of the ground,” 
they afterward said, they saw the strangest- 
looking creature they had ever seen in the four 
or five years of their lives. His nose seemed to 


100 


LITTLE FOLKS 


be yards long, and pointed straight at the sky. 

As they stood hesitating whether to go nearer, 
or run back home as fast as their short legs 
would take them, a shout from Eob, coming 
across the marshy lots, called their attention. 

‘‘Well, what are you kids doing hereT^ cried 
he. “You’ll catch it ! You’re all covered with 
mud!” 

The children looked down at their feet in a 
dismay that lasted but a moment, for Rob had 
spied the strange creature, and they all for- 
got muddy boots and future reckonings with 
Mamma. If they were to be punished by and 
by, no good could come of allowing the prospect 
to spoil the pleasure of the present moment. 
Such was their philosophy, at least. 

When Eob had taken one good look at the 
creature, he was quite as eager as they were to 
examine it further. It sat very still now, hav- 
ing discovered the presence of the children, and 
though there were no reeds or rushes to hide 
him, as there would have been in his native 
haunts, he crouched down, vainly hoping that 
the children would go away without seeing him. 
But instead of that, they came nearer and 


nearer. 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING loi 


They were quite astonished to see that he did 
not attempt to get away, and were almost afraid 
to approach, lest he should turn upon them. 
But Rob suggested that he might be injured in 
some way, and step by step they came so near 
that the poor thing, in a very desperation of 
terror, made a clumsy attempt to rise. But he 
dropped within a few feet. 

With a rush Rob was after him. 

‘‘Gi^ me your cape,’’ he cried to Caroline, 
snatching it from her shoulders as he raced past 
her. It was thick and wide, and he flung it di- 
rectly over the creature’s head, just as it was 
rising for the second time. Perhaps in the 
darkness and warmth of its folds the huge bird, 
for it was a bird, believed himself in safety, for 
he crouched quietly down, and in a moment Rob 
had him securely wrapped in the cape. The 
children at his heels, they tramped triumphantly 
home, very much excited, and Caroline very cold 
in her wet shoes and without her wrap. 

When they reached home, a servant told them 
that Marshall was asleep, so they could not 
take their prize to him. They carried it to the 
barn, but could not find a box large enough to 
hold it. 


102 


LITTLE FOLKS 


At last one of the children made the brilliant 
suggestion that they take the prisoner to the 
bathroom. Perhaps they associated that room 
with a prison of some sort, having on several 
'memorable occasions been exiled there them- 
selves. So, very softly, or at least so they 
thought, they trudged up the stairs, muddy 
boots leaving ugly stains upon every step. 
They shut and locked the bathroom door, and 
then released the poor half-suffocated creature 
from its heavy wrappings. At first it sat in a 
heap, looking very unhappy, and completely 
dazed in the middle of the floor, while the chil- 
dren sat about gazing at it, and discussing its 
queer appearance in whispers. It would never 
do to let Mrs. Wilbur know what they had in 
there. Breaking in on their whispers came a 
loud knocking at the door and Elizabeth’s voice 
demanding that she be admitted to the room, or 
told what was in there. 

‘‘We haven’t anything that matters!” cried 
Eob, very angry with the servant, who had 
revealed what she knew of their secret. 

At Eob’s angry tones, the frightened pris- 
oner, who had now got his breath, leaped upon 



He flung it directly over the creature’s uead. — Page Joi 



TRAMPING AND CAMPING 103 

the edge of the bath-tub, giving a loud, harsh cry 
of fear. The small boys shouted with delight, 
Caroline shrieked, and Elizabeth gave a fright- 
ened cry from without, exclaiming at the same 
time, ‘^Now, Rob, you just let those little ones 
out this minute I If you want to be killed your- 
self, you can, but you sha^nT let them be hurt, 
too 

Her words were received with shouts of 
laughter from the children, more unearthly 
cries from the captive, and wild racing about 
the bathroom. 

Outside of the door, Isabel and Elizabeth, not 
being sure whether the cries were of terror or 
of excitement, were clinging frantically together 
frightened, yet giggling. 

At this point who, of all people, should appear 
but Mrs. Wilbur from MarshalPs room, curious 
to know what all the racket was about, and ready 
to put the worst possible light on any prank of 
the children. She joined Elizabeth in angry ex- 
clamations and commands that they should 
^Take that awful animal out of the house at 
once^^ ; and, in the same breath, ‘‘not to dare to 
open that door and let the dreadful creature get 


104 


LITTLE FOLKS 


away!’’ At which, to her astonishment and 
further discomfiture, the children giggled more 
than ever. 

America now joined them from the kitchen, 
and whispered excitedly that, ‘‘dem boys done 
got de debble in de bafroom!” And she was 
careful to stand within the adjoining room, her 
hand on the door-knob, ready to slam the door 
shut the moment the ‘‘debble” should make his 
appearance. 

In the midst of the excitement. Mamma and 
Aunty opened the front door, and were met on 
the stairs by Elizabeth, with shining eyes and 
scarlet cheeks. 

The uproar in the bathroom could be dis- 
tinctly heard in the hall below, and as they has- 
tened up the stairs, Elizabeth excitedly explain- 
ing all the way, they were met by Mrs. Wilbur, 
wringing her hands and nervously exclaiming 
that she didn ’t know why she ever came ! She 
added that she didn ’t know that she was coming 
into a house where they allowed the children to 
keep wild animals in the bathroom ! 

Mamma asked anxiously for Marshall, and 
was told “The poor, dear child is bearing up 
pretty well, considering ! ” 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 105 

The noise in the bathroom arose to a tumult 
as Mamma came down the hall. Such awful 
noises as the poor, tired creature gave vent to, 
were enough to frighten any mother. And 
those, mingled with the excited shouts and 
shrieks of the children, were calculated to make 
a stronger heart than hers quail. She shook the 
door. Something bounced madly against it and 
gave a blood-curdling yell almost in her ear. 
She shrank back. Then followed wild dashing 
of childish feet about the room. 

‘‘Rob! Rob!’^ cried Mamma. “Open this 
door at once!’^ 

‘ ‘ I can T, ^ ^ cried Rob. ‘ ‘ It T get out ! ^ ^ 

“What is itr^ cried Mamma. 

“I don’t know!” 

“Don’t know?” cried Mamma incredulously. 
“Robert, what have you got in that room?” 

“I don’t know what it is. Mamma. Really, I 
don ’t ! ” 

‘ ‘ Why don ’t you hold it and open the door ? ’ ’ 
was her next question. 

“I can’t catch it. It’s on the top of the mir- 
ror to the chiffonier ! ’ ’ 

“Hold him, Jim! Get a hold of his tail!” 
came the cries from within. 


io6 


LITTLE FOLKS 


‘Tt must be a coon/’ suggested Mamma, who 
had come from the south. ‘^What else could 
climb so high?” 

Another wild dash about the bathroom fol- 
lowed. The crash of breaking crockery and 
the splashing of water mingled with their cries. 

<<I>ve got him! No, I haven’t! Look out! 
He’ll bite you! Be careful, Caroline! Oh, 
Caroline ’s got him by the tail ! ’ ’ 

^ ^ 0 ! Ow ! Ouch ! ’ ’ came Caroline ’s voice at 
its highest pitch. ‘Tt’s come off — out — his 
tail! Oh, Eob, it’s broke!” 

‘^Ow! Ow! He’s on my back!” in Sher- 
burne’s voice now. ‘^Take him off — quick!” 

All these cries came through the key-hole in 
quick succession, mingled with horrible, hoarse 
terror-cries from the tormented captive, and 
loudest shrill shrieks from Caroline, who loved 
excitement, and the sound of her own voice at 
its highest pitch. 

In sheer desperation Mamma was just debat- 
ing whether to send for a locksmith to open the 
door, some one with a gun to kill the unseen 
creature, or a policeman, when the front door 
opened, and in walked Uncle, smiling and calm. 
He came up the stairs two steps at a time, and 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 107 

joined the excited little crowd about the door. 
In just about two minutes he had command of 
the situation. 

‘ ^ Robert, ’ ^ he said, as quietly as he could say 
it and be heard above the tumult, ‘‘open this 
door at once, or I shall break it in.’’ And his 
great body leaning against the door made it 
creak ominously. 

Rob began his excuses again, but his uncle’s 
voice interrupted him. 

“You heard what I said!” was all; but Rob 
recognized a tone that meant to be obeyed. 
Quickly the key turned in the lock. The door 
opened a very little bit. Uncle slid into the 
room and closed the door behind him. One or 
two more dashes about the room followed, and 
then the door opened and Uncle came quietly 
out, a poor, tormented bird in his arms, crouch- 
ing down as if it knew that it had found a 
friend at last. 

‘ ‘ This is all it was, ’ ’ he said, a wee twinkle in 
his eyes, as they flashed at Mamma, who gave 
one disgusted glance at the bird, and then looked 
beyond into the bathroom, as if still half expect- 
ing to see some awful animal in there. 

Instead, four pairs of childish eyes returned 


io8 


LITTLE FOLKS 


her shocked gaze. The twins, flushed and ex- 
cited, their eyes shining, all unconscious what 
little sinners they were, rushed upon her, eager 
to tell the story. But she held them back, for 
they were muddy from head to foot. 

Caroline in a like condition, her dress badly 
torn, stood the picture of guilt, with eyes cast 
down. 

A sense of guilt for the first time rushed 
over Eob, as he followed Mammals gaze about 
the room, and saw the havoc they had made. 

Believing it to be a water-bird, they had filled 
the tub with water. It was no longer full. 
Flowers that had been blooming in the window 
lay upon the floor among the broken bits of 
pots and dirt. The mirror was broken. 
Towels that had been used to slap at the bird, 
to scare him from his high perches, were scat- 
tered about. Drawers had been opened in the 
search for towels, and their contents strewn 
upon the floor. Let us draw the curtain, or, to 
be more exact, close the door, as Mamma did, 
and hasten to MarshalPs room as she did. 

Uncle was there before her, showing the great 
bird to the boy, who had been obliged to lie 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 109 

and listen to the noise from his room. The 
bird was a young American bittern, quite two 
feet high, a splendid specimen, save for its tail, 
now in Caroline's possession. His wings and 
back were a much-mixed black, tan, and brown. 
On each side of his neck was a beautiful vel- 
vety black ^ ^collar.’’ His beak was long and 
strong, and, when sitting down, he pointed it 
straight up. When he crouched down, with his 
shoulders hunched up, he looked comically like 
a very old man with a tremendous nose. 

Marshall was very much interested in the 
bird, and none the worse for the excitement, 
which, to tell the truth, he had rather enjoyed, 
knowing, from recollections of his own, that it 
was probably just some boyish prank. 

When the children came sheepishly into the 
room, after a general cleaning-up. Uncle showed 
them the bird, and explained that it was prob- 
ably making its first migration north. It very 
probably dropped exhausted from its long jour- 
ney, in the lot where the children found it; 
otherwise they could not have so easily cap- 
tured it. 

The next day Marshall photographed it, and 


no TRAMPING AND CAMPING 

then Uncle, attended by the children, carried 
it to a marshy place by the river, where he gave 
it its liberty. 

Later in the spring, on one of their tramps, 
he and the children heard a bittern near the 
place, sounding its monmfnl cry for, as Uncle 
said, ‘‘Plum pudding! M-o-r-e- plum pud- 
ding!’’ 


CHAPTEE IX 


A HAPPY DAY 

‘‘Nobody knew what on earth was the matter, 

Or what such a babel of talk could allude to; 

But nothing alarming 

Heard those overhead, so 
They found it quite charming. 

And each of them said so; 

For theyM all been south and they hadn’t met 
Since the autumn time, with its dull and wet. 

So this was all that the babel meant; 

They were askng each other with rapt intent, 
‘Where and how was your winter spent ? ’ ” 

Clinton Scollard. 

Early one morning in May, when the air was 
still so sharp that it made the children shiver 
when they dressed, Uncle came tiptoeing along 
the hall at the chilly hour of four-thirty, tapping 
at their doors, and softly calling to dress 
quickly and come to MarshalPs room, for 
visitors had arrived in the night and might not 
stay long. The children, much excited, tumbled 
into their clothes some way, and hurried after 
him, eager to see who these strange new visitors 
might be. 


Ill 


1 12 


LITTLE FOLKS 


They found Marshall sitting up in bed on the 
porch, where he now slept, camera by his side, 
field-glass in hand, impatiently waiting for a 
little more sunlight. 

A soft mist hung in the air, tinted a rosy 
pink by the rising sun. Dew-spangled cobwebs 
draped shrubs and vines. The world was new 
and beautiful. Eobins were calling, ‘ ‘ Wake up ! 
Wake up!’’ Orioles were making the air ring 
with their bell-like tones. The little wren, now 
well established in his housekeeping, was pour- 
ing out his whole soul in music at his front door. 
Swallows were gossiping merrily. And such a 
twittering and warbling as came from the pine- 
tree! The children’s home was indeed well 
named ‘‘Birds’ Haven.” But where were the 
visitors 1 Only Uncle and Marshall were on the 
porch. 

“Where is the company?” cried Caroline, 
rubbing her sleepy eyes. 

“There,” answered Uncle, pointing toward 
the pine-tree, where they saw a number of tiny 
birds of many colors, nothing about them sug- 
gesting dust-laden travelers, unless it was their 
appetites, though many of the tiny creatures 
had traveled a thousand miles or more. 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 113 

‘‘Those!’' cried Elizabeth, a little disap- 
pointed and yawning openly, no pun intended. 
“Why, I thought it was company, not birds!” 
She did not relish being called from her pleas- 
ant morning dreams to see “a lot of little 
birds,” especially when she had hoped to see 
some charming new cousins or friends. 

But her ill-temper did not last long, only 
till she got the “sleep out of her eyes,” for 
who could be cross with such a jolly party of 
little warbling guests about one? 

“Why, Uncle,” cried Caroline, remembering 
the time when the bird visitors had arrived 
from the north, “there hasn’t been any snow- 
storm! Where did they come from?” 

“No,” answered Uncle, “these little birds 
here are on their way to the north. The others 
came from the north. These are wood-war- 
blers, and, though not very fine singers, are most 
attractive little creatures, and many of them 
are beautiful. The female, in many cases being 
ditferently colored from the male, makes it 
seem as if there is an even greater variety than 
there really is. Little flocks of them often stop 
for a few hours on their way north, in some 
place where food is plentiful. Our big yard. 


LITTLE FOLKS 


114 

with its many trees, and the food which I put 
out after the storm yesterday, undoubtedly at- 
tracted them. It is a little unusual to find so 
many varieties in one place. Our hospitable 
yard must be getting a reputation. A few of 
these warblers will nest about here, but most 
of them will go farther north to raise their 
families. If you should go up into the pine 
woods this summer, ’ ’ and he winked at Mamma, 
who had joined the little party on the porch, 
^‘you would find many of these little fellows 
nesting there. ’ ’ 

There’s a canary-bird,” cried James, inter- 
rupting his uncle’s long speech. 

‘‘A wild canary,” corrected big sister. 

‘‘No,” said Uncle, “you are making a mis- 
take which is often made by older people than 
you. This is our yellow warbler, commonly 
called ‘ summer yellow-bird. ’ He or some of his 
family will probably nest about here this sum- 
mer. ’ ’ 

“What is that lovely bird all black and 
pink?” cried Elizabeth, delighted with the beau- 
tiful coloring. 

“A redstart,” cried Marshall eagerly. “I 
read about him yesterday. In Cuba they call 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 115 

him ‘Candelita,’ or ‘Little Candle Flame.’ ” 

“S^e the little bird near him,” said Uncle, 
“that is yellow where he is red. That may be 
his mate some day, for it is a female redstart.” 

“Why, Uncle!” cried Elizabeth; “and it is 
so entirely different ! ’ ’ 

“Just another one of those cases,” said 
Uncle, smiling, “where Nature clothes the fe- 
male in duller colors, so that she may be safer 
upon her nest. See how they spread their fan- 
like tails, quite as if they appreciate their 
beauty themselves. Much as these girls here 
parade before the mirror, eh?” And he mis- 
chievously pulled Elizabeth ’s hair down around 
her eyes with one hand, and tousled Caroline’s 
with the other. 

“The redstart may nest here, also,” he con- 
tinued his little lecture; “and that little black- 
and-white fellow so busily hunting for insects. 
Of what bird does he remind you?” 

“The brown creeper,” said Marshall quickly, 
who had seen one in the yard. 

“The downy woodpecker,” suggested Rob. 

“Yes,” agreed Uncle. “I have been told 
that he is often mistaken for the woodpecker, 
and I think his motions are like the creeper. 


ii6 


LITTLE FOLKS 


That little olive-green bird, with yellow under- 
parts and black on the sides of his face, the 
Maryland yellowthroat, may remain here, too, 
and possibly some others of that merry crowd. 

The birds stayed about the yard nearly all 
day, as there were no cats to disturb them, and 
the children counted six varieties among them. 
This delighted Marshall, as it would add much 
to the record which he was keeping of the 
varieties of birds he saw, as the others were 
also doing, though he had little hope of winning 
the prize. But the lad was already dreaming 
dreams of cheerful words to be written some 
day for the comfort and cheer of other shut- 
ins.^’ 

The warblers, and Marshall with his camera, 
having sole possession of the front yard that 
afternoon, the twins and Caroline sought 
amusement in the back-yard. Uncle warned 
them to keep away from little Madam Nut- 
hatches tree, for they knew that she now had a 
family of little bobtailed youngsters tucked 
away in the dark hole. Why else should she 
be carrying food down there? For once Car- 
oline was inclined to obey, for she still had a 
wholesome respect for the little gray mother. 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 117 

who had so bravely defended her home in the 
early spring-. 

They amused themselves in various ways for 
an hour or so, their games bringing them nearer 
and nearer to the forbidden territory. 

In the midst of a glorious game of ^‘tag,’’ a 
harsh ^‘Hank! Hank!’’ from just over their 
heads, made them stop their play in amazement. 
They stared above and around them, but, seeing 
nothing that they believed capable of giving 
such a cry, they returned to their game. 

‘‘You’re it!” cried Caroline, taking ad- 
vantage of the moment, when his attention was 
directed toward the bird, to give James a push 
and dart away. 

‘ ‘ Hank ! Hank ! ’ ’ came the cry again. 

Once more they paused in their game. This 
time they discovered little Mother Nuthatch, 
with whom they had become tolerably well ac- 
quainted, almost under Sherburne’s feet. 

‘‘I fought it was her/’ he cried, stooping to 
look at her more closely. For what could be 
the matter with the usually active little crea- 
ture? ‘‘Oh, Caroline, look at her! Look! 
Look!” cried Sherburne, much concerned. 

As he spoke, with a funny hitching motion. 


ii8 


LITTLE FOLKS 


her wing dragging pitifully upon the ground, 
the brave little creature scuttled under the last- 
year’s grass and leaves about the base of the 
tree, giving pitiful little cries as she ran. 

‘ ‘ Oh ! Oh I ” cried Caroline. ‘ ‘ Our little nut- 
hatch has broken her wing I” And, indeed, so 
it would have appeared to an older and wiser 
person. ‘^Help me catch her,” she cried; ‘‘and 
we’ll take her to Uncle and he’ll set it!” So 
saying, she put her hand, as she afterwards 
said, “right down on” the little bird. But, lo! 
Mother Nuthatch was three feet away! Still 
tumbling and falling, to be sure, — almost turn- 
ing somersaults as she went. 

“Oh, the poor little thing!” wailed Sher- 
burne, as he and James joined in the chase. 
‘ ‘ She ’s hurted awful ! ’ ’ 

Straight across the yard she led them, and 
down into a little ditch that ran along the di- 
vision-fence at the back of the yard. 

“Let’s go tell Uncle,” cried James, growing 
discouraged, as again and again he put his hand 
almost upon her. 

“I’ll stay and try to catch her,” suggested 
Caroline; “for she might hide, and then maybe 
we’d never find her again, and all her babies ’d 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 119 

die, and she ’d die, too ! ’ ^ And Caroline drew a 
very tragic face. 

Away went the twins. Tramp ! Tramp ! 
Tramp! went their sturdy feet up the back- 
stairs to Marshall’s room. They found the rest 
of the family gathered on the veranda, watch- 
ing Marshall, as he tried to get some pictures of 
the warblers. Their eyes bright and round 
with excitement, their cheeks very red, the 
twins seized Uncle by either arm, crying, 
‘ ‘ Come ! Come, Uncle ! Come quick I ’ ’ 

‘^What’s the excitement now?” laughed 
Uncle, rising obediently from his chair. James, 
who stammered, looked appealingly at Sher- 
burne, for this was a tale that must be quickly 
told. 

‘^Our little nuthatch,” cried Sherburne. 

She’s bwoken her wing, an’ she’s pimpling all 
around the yard!” 

‘‘Pimpling!” shouted Uncle, delighted with 
the Word. “Pimpling! Ha! Ha! Ha!” 

“Limping,” explained Sherburne’s mamma, 
gathering the discomfited little fellow into her 
arms, from where he promptly wriggled away. 
“Her wing is broken, did you say?” she asked. 

“Yes,” said James, who was started now. 


120 LITTLE FOLKS 

^‘She dragged it in ve dirt, an’ Carlun says 
it’s broke!” 

‘‘Beware! Beware! She’s fooling thee,” 
laughed Uncle, in the words of a popular song. 

Rob and Elizabeth had already raced down- 
stairs, and now came their voices calling ex- 
citedly, “Come down. Uncle! Please! The 
little nuthatches are out on the limb of the tree, 
and Caroline has lost their mother!” 

Marshall looked at his uncle with anxious, 
questioning eyes, for he was much interested in 
the little nuthatch family. 

“Come,” said Uncle, very gently, laying his 
hand upon the boy’s shoulder. 

Marshall stared at him in amazement. It 
was a glorious May day, warm in the sun, and 
with no wind blowing. 

“Come,” he repeated firmly, putting his 
arm about Marshall’s shoulders. “Come 
down-stairs and see the fun.” 

Marshall caught his breath in something be- 
tween a sob and a laugh. For six months he 
had not gone about the house, and for many 
weeks had not even walked about his room. 
Uncle and Papa carried him to and from his in- 
door and outdoor bedrooms. A spirit of lassi- 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 121 


tilde seemed to possess the boy, which Uncle 
was earnestly striving to overcome. But though 
he had encouraged him to take an interest in 
many things, and to do a number of others that 
he had long ago given up, he had not yet sug- 
gested that he should attempt to walk. 

So it came now as a surprise to all. Papa 
came forward, newspaper in hand, beaming 
encouragement. Mamma’s face* was radiant. 
When Aunty saw that Uncle was in earnest, she 
ran breathlessly down the stairs, snatching a 
soft quilt as she ran, and calling to ’Merica to 
bring the easiest chair out upon the back porch. 

With Uncle on one side and Papa on the other, 
and with Mamma hovering about, Marshall 
walked to the head of the stairs. Then Papa 
and Uncle clasped hands and made a ‘^basket,” 
as they had often done in their boyhood days. 
Seated thereon, with his arms about their 
necks, Marshall rode triumphantly down the 
stairs, and was soon settled on the porch in the 
sunshine. 

When he was comfortably seated. Uncle left 
him with Mamma and Aunty and old Mec, all 
striving to do something to make him more com- 
fortable, and went into the yard to look after 


122 LITTLE FOLKS 

Nuthatch affairs. He found the children still 
searching anxiously among the leaves. 

‘‘Why, Uncle, cried Caroline, with quiver- 
ing lip, “when Eoh and Tizbeth ran out and 
said the baby birds were out, I just ran over 
there for a minute, an’ when I came back she 
was clear gone ! ’ ’ 

“Let’s go back and see the babies, then,” 
said Uncle, smiling comfortingly. 

“An’ not hunt for her any more. Uncle? 
Why, her wing is all broke like this,” dangling 
her arm loosely at her side. She thought Uncle 
could not be so hard-hearted as to let the little 
bird suffer, if he only understood. 

“We’ll look for her later, if you want to,” he 
answered, leading the little procession back to 
the tree. 

All about the nesting-hole was quiet, but, 
to Caroline’s unbounded amazement. Uncle 
pointed out little Mrs. Nuthatch, with wing 
quite unharmed, busily feeding six little Nut- 
hatches all in a row, on a branch some distance 
from the nest. She could scarcely believe that 
this active little bird, running over the tree, 
upside down or right side up, as best suited 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 123 

her convenience, under or -on top of a branch, 
now here, now there, conld be the crippled little 
creature she had a few moments ago been chas- 
ing. She could scarcely restrain little squeals 
of delight. 

The Nuthatch family was too far away from 
the porch for Marshall to photograph it, so 
Uncle was soon occupied in ^‘catching them’’ in 
several pretty ways, for the little nuthatches 
were charming posers. Rob and Elizabeth were 
much interested in helping him, and Caroline 
and the twins went back and forth, like human 
pendulums, between the back porch and the tree. 

What a happy time it was! One of those 
sweet, peaceful, never-to-be-forgotten days, that 
come occasionally to every happy family. 
Mamma and Aunty hovered about Marshall, an- 
ticipating every wish, and ’Merica waddled 
about, bringing him egg-nogs and milk, until he 
declared that he should soon be as fat as she, 
which should be all that he could wish. 

The twins and Caroline soon tired* of such 
quiet pleasures, however, and, seeking new 
amusement, wandered around the side of the 
house, from where their shrill voices, raised in 
innocent, childish chatter, amused Uncle im- 


LITTLE FOLKS 


124 

mensely when it reached his ears now and then. 

‘T had a kitty to my house/ ^ said Sherburne. 
‘‘Name was Bluebell.’’ 

“We had one, too,” said James. “She died 
dead!” 

“I would like to have a kitty,” said Sher- 
burne, with a timid glance at Uncle. 

“Kitties eat birds ! cried James, shocked. 

“My kitty went to shurch,” chuckled Sher- 
burne. “Man carried her out by de neck. 
Toes all curled up, — tail all turned up, — so!” 
and he made a comical attempt to take the posi- 
tion. 

“I bemember once our kitty bringed little 
cats,” boasted James. 

This was too much good fortune. For a mo- 
ment Sherburne was silenced. 

“Where are they?” he asked at last. 

“In heaven,” said James solemnly, with a 
very long face. 

Sherburne accepted this with reverent silence. 
“I know where heaven is,” said James, when 
no one spoke. 

“Where?” cried Sherburne, plainly incredu- 
lous. “You been dere since you was bornded ? ’ ’ 
he asked. 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 125 

‘‘No, but I know,^^ insisted James. “It’s a 
hole in ve ground,” he cried triumphantly, 
‘ ‘ cause Mec said my kitties went to heaven, and 
I saw where vey went ! ’ ’ 

Sherburne could not contradict such testi- 
mony as this, but after a moment’s thought he 
ventured another remark: “I know how my 
kitty tooked a baf . ’ ’ 

“I know how ours did, too,” cried James 
scornfully. 

“I can wash like our kitty,” cried Sher- 
burne, determined to astonish his cousin. He 
may have failed to do that, but he certainly 
astonished his uncle, who had slipped around 
the house to watch them for a moment, by stick- 
ing his little pink tongue far out of his mouth, 
and running it about over the neighboring sur- 
face of his none-too-clean face, almost reaching 
his ears in his violent efforts. 

“I can eat like a kitty,” was the next re- 
markable statement from James, lapping nois- 
ily* 

“I can drink like a bird,” boasted Caroline. 
The boys looked at her admiringly. 

“Show us!” cried Sherburne. 

Seeing nothing near that seemed to be suit- 


126 


LITTLE FOLKS 


able for a drinking-dish, she “hopped like a 
bird,^^ the boys imitating, aronnd the corner of 
the veranda, where America had placed a large, 
clean barrel to catch the rain-water. It was 
nearly full now, and Caroline, hopping upon the 
ledge around the outside of the veranda, and 
holding the edge of the barrel with both hands, 
leaned far over and proceeded to “drink like a 
bird’’ before her admiring audience. 

But, alas! Her triumph was short! Her 
hand slipped. She clutched wildly, but could 
not regain her hold upon the barrel. Her foot 
slipped next, and over she went, balancing upon 
her stomach upon the barrel-edge, plunging 
wildly, and screaming at the top of her voice, her 
head one moment in the water, the next moment 
out of it. Of course her screams quickly brought 
assistance, and it was an astonishing sight that 
met their eyes. Nothing could be seen of Caro- 
line but fluttering petticoats, and two long legs, 
each of these firmly grasped by a sturdy, deter- 
mined, red-faced twin. . As Uncle lifted the drip- 
ping child from the water, he was astonished to 
find Marshall by his side, erect, but pale and 
trembling at such unwonted excitement and 
exertion. Refusing any one’s help, he walked 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 127 

proudly back to his chair, amid the applause of 
the happy group. 

Carrying Caroline into the kitchen, Uncle 
stood her in the sink to drip, saying to Mamma 
as he did so, ‘‘Now put each one of these kid- 
lets into a padded cell until to-morrow, for 
weVe had all the excitement we can stand.’’ 
And Mamma, smiling through happy, unshed 
tears, said, as she carried her dripping little 
daughter up the stairs, “Who taught the chil- 
dren to study the ways of the birds, my dear?” 


CHAPTER X 


FIRE 


“The calling, calling of the wild is in the air to-day; 

You hear the calling in your heart though you are far 
away; 

And your spirit leaps to meet it as a brook leaps to the 
fall.” 

Elizabeth M. Montague. 


‘Ht’s too hot to go to school!^’ grumbled 
Rob, one morning in May, when an unusually 
warm day or two had given the children a touch 
of spring fever. ‘‘IM a lot rather go on a 
tramp. ^ ^ 

‘‘Oh,’’ laughed Uncle roguishly, “it would be 
too warm for a tramp, wouldn’t it? Think of 
the exertion, compared with sitting quietly in 
a schoolroom all day. ’ ’ 

“Never too hot for a tramp!” cried Rob; and 
the others looked at Uncle with a question in 
their eyes, for a faint hope had dawned that 
there might be a possibility of a holiday for 
them. 


128 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 129 

^‘Saturday, kiddos,” laughed Uncle. ^‘One, 
two, three more days, and then — ’’ 

Hurrah for Saturday!’^ cried the young- 
sters happily. 

“Uncle says that somewhere near the school 
is a song-sparrow ^s nest,’’ said Rob, as they 
entered the school-yard an hour later. “He 
saw it carrying a straw about here somewhere.” 

“I wish we needn’t go to school, but might 
hunt for it,” said Elizabeth. 

“Gee!” exclaimed Rob; “I do wish some- 
thing would happen to let us out ! ’ ’ 

A little companion who had joined them, 
parodied an old song: 

wish I were a little bird, 

I would not go into school, 

I would run far away. 

Where I’d not be caught to-day. 

And would not have to mind a single rule!” 

The school-building was a large one, accom- 
modating all of the children of the suburb. The 
halls were wide and cool, but the absence of 
any trees about the building allowed the rooms 
to become very warm in the spring. To-day 
pupils and teachers alike seemed to feel the 
effect of the weather. Most of the children 


130 


LITTLE FOLKS 


gazed idly out of the windows, and those who 
had any energy, devoted it to mischief. The 
slightest thing would set them to giggling. 
When one of the history class gravely informed 
them that ‘ * Henry the VIII got a divorce from 
the Pope,^^ it set the room into an uproar of 
merriment. 

The teacher stood by the open window most 
of the time, making a pretense of hearing the 
recitations, and vainly striving to get a pass- 
ing breath of air. The children’s shoulders 
drooped, and many of them dropped their heads 
upon their desks and pillowed them upon their 
arms. 

Elizabeth ’s head ached with the heat, and her 
brain refused to solve the problems in arithme- 
tic, or learn the Declaration of Independence. 
She thought of the merry tramps they had been 
enjoying all spring, of the cool, shadowy woods, 
and the merry warbling of the birds. She gazed 
out of the window, and away in the distance she 
could see the dark outline of some low hills 
which they had planned to explore some day. 

As she sat wondering what new mysteries 
would be unfolded to them there, by sundry 
‘^nods and becks and wreathed smiles” it was 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 131 

forced upon her consciousness that her red- 
headed admirer across the aisle was trying to 
gain her attention. Opening his closely-clasped 
hand a little bit, he gave her delightful glimpses 
of some mystery concealed just inside the open- 
ing of his pocket. 

‘‘Candy?^* questioned Elizabeth in a whisper, 
at last becoming interested. The boy shook his 
head emphatically. Elizabeth glanced furtively 
at the teacher. 

‘‘Appier^ she whispered behind her atlas. 

Again the red head shook a negative. Eliza- 
beth thqught a moment. 

‘‘Let me see,’^ she whispered. 

But the lad answered, “No, sir-ee,’^ so loudly 
that Elizabeth glanced at the teacher, alarmed. 
But she was busy with a class on the other side 
of the room. 

Even as the boy spoke, the something in his 
pocket plainly moved, and beneath his hand 
Elizabeth caught a glimpse of something soft 
and dark colored. 

‘ ‘ Oh, a little bird ! ’ ’ she whispered. ‘ ‘ Give it 
to me, please.’^ 

The boy grinned and leaned toward her. 
“Do you want itf^^ he said. “Sure?^’ 


132 


LITTLE FOLKS 


‘‘Sure!’^ she whispered emphatically, think- 
ing how pleased Marshall would be to have her 
rescue the little creature. ^T’ll take it home 
to Marsh. 

The grinning lad leaned over and put into 
her hand, but fortunately without releasing his 
hold, the soft little bodies of two tiny field- 
mice. 

Now Elizabeth had the average woman ^s 
dislike of a mouse. At the first glint of their 
sparkling eyes, the first squirm of a wriggling 
tail, she screamed. Only once, but it waked 
up the teacher. It roused the children. Eliza- 
beth, covered with confusion, began to apolo- 
gize. 

‘^Oh, I beg your pardon,’^ she gasped, the 
tears coming into her eyes. But before she 
could finish, the teacher interrupted her. 
‘‘Thomas, what have you?’^ she said to the red- 
headed lad, who was now blushing as red as his 
hair. But Thomas made no reply. 

“Bring it here to me,^^ commanded the 
teacher. At this command, Thomas rose doubt- 
fully to his feet. 

“I^d rather not,’’ he gulped out finally. The 
teacher smiled. “I suppose so,” she said. 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 133 

^‘However, bring it here,” — more sternly this 
time. 

^T-I-can’t,” the child stammered, growing 
more and more confused. ‘‘You-you-wouldn’t 
want ^em!” 

“Maybe not,” agreed the teacher. “But, 
obey me/” The boy stumbled up the aisle, but 
turned toward the door. He might escape yet, 
he thought. 

“Come back here!” commanded the teacher. 

Thomas stopped and looked appealingly at 
Elizabeth, who sat flushed and teary. He 
hadn’t meant to frighten her so much. He 
had not dreamed that she would scream. He 
wondered what teacher would do. He was or- 
dinarily a good-hearted boy. He didn’t want 
to frighten her, for more than one reason. But 
evidently she meant to be obeyed, and he moved 
slowly across the floor. She waited with out- 
stretched hand. 

Elizabeth had recovered enough to whisper, 
“Mice!” to her nearest neighbor, who had 
passed the word along. And now the whole 
roomful of youngsters waited in breathless ex- 
pectation of what would happen whan the mice 
were delivered. 


134 


LITTLE FOLKS 


‘‘You won’t want ’em,” said Thomas again, 
making a final effort to save the teacher, and in- 
cidentally his own skin. 

“Never mind!” said the teacher, growing 
tired of this foolishness. 

The boy hesitated again, and then, with a last 
appealing look at Elizabeth, he laid the soft lit- 
tle creatures in the teacher’s hand. 

Sh^ gave one gasp, that was a scream killed 
at its birth. Then bravely, white to the very 
lips, she walked to the window and dropped the 
poor suffering mice down into the yard below. 

“Now, be seated,” she said to the boy. 
“Class, come to order!” to the giggling chil- 
dren, and dropped into a chair, too weak to give 
any further punishment. 

The children soon settled down into their 
previous limp condition. The morning dragged 
long. The lessons were droned through. Sud- 
denly three shrill clangs of a gong brought them 
upright, as if some one had touched an electric 
button that brought them to life. 

“Fire-drill!” was the whisper that went 
around. The teacher smiled and flew to the 
door. A little girl skipped smilingly to the 
piano. Eob sprang to the door at the head of 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 135 

the stairs, for he was one of the boys appointed 
to remain until his room was empty, and then 
make sure that no little folks were left there, 
or in the halls or cloak-rooms. 

Every child was alert and smiling. Fire-drill 
had no terrors for them. And not one of them, 
or the teacher, thought of its being anything 
but fire-drill. 

The gong clanged again. The children sprang 
to their feet. But before the third call came, 
home on the hot midday air came the awful 
shriek of a siren whistle, the fire-alarm of 
the suburb! The teacher’s face went white! 
Smiles faded from the lips of the children. 

‘^Fire!” they gasped, in low, hoarse, un- 
child-like whispers. From far down the street 
they could hear the insistent gong of the fire- 
engines. 

^‘Be quiet!” commanded the teacher sternly. 
‘‘Don’t move till the gong strikes!” 

“Clang!” came the harsh alarm for the third 
time. 

‘^Hurrah! Hurrah! We’ll shout the vic- 
tory ! ” the brave little girl at the piano played 
merrily on, her little fingers stiffening with 
fright, but never pausing. 


LITTLE FOLKS 


136 

“One, two, three, four; one, two, three, four,” 
counted the teacher to the children's moving 
feet, her lips stiff and white, her voice shrill 
and unnatural. Tramp! Tramp! Tramp! 
Their feet on the stairs responded steadily to 
her count. 

Nearer and nearer came the engines. The 
chief ^s buggy whirled into the school-yard, mak- 
ing the turn on two wheels. 

Eob stood at his post till the last child reached 
the lower floor, and then, at a nod from the 
teacher, dashed off to the cloak-rooms. 

The little girl at the piano never paused till 
the teacher cried, ‘^Now, run! Eun!^^ and 
fairly pushed her out of the door. 

As Eob, beside the teacher, raced down the 
stairs at last, the huge engines and hook-and- 
ladder wagon dashed up to the building, their 
shrieking gong sounding far ahead of them. 
When he reached the street, the first person to 
greet him was his uncle, pale, but calm. 

‘‘Are they all outT’ gasped Eob. 

“Ours are,’^ answered Uncle. “Now you he 
here, IVe accounted for all of you.^^ 

“There isn’t a kid left on our floor!” said 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 137 

Rob positively. ^ ‘ I didn ’t come until I ’d looked 
everywhere ! ’ ^ 

Brave boy!’^ said Uncle in a low tone that 
thrilled Rob’s heart more than pages of praise 
from others. 

The teachers gathered excitedly about the 
firemen, each one declaring that all of his or 
her pupils were safely out of the building. A 
crowd gathered, as such crowds do gather, like 
magic. Most of the children flew home to as- 
sure their parents that they were quite safe. 

The firemen quickly spread the hose, and the 
fire-chief disappeared within the building, the 
principal of the school following him. Every 
one was asking every one else where the fire 
was and how it started, but no one seemed able 
to answer either question. In a few minutes 
the chief and the principal appeared again in 
the doorway. 

had a ’phone message from the engine- 
house,” the principal was explaining excitedly, 
‘‘saying, ‘Get the children out quick, and we’ll 
be there !’ And of course I didn’t wait to hunt 
for the fire.” 

The chief’s face was very red. “We can’t 


LITTLE FOLKS 


138 

find any fire/’ he said. any of you kids,^^ 

turning to the clustering children, ^Hurned in 
a false alarm ^ — but he left his threat un- 

finished. 

The children looked from one to another. 
Then one boy said indignantly, ‘‘We ain’t that 
kind of kids.” 

“I tell ye there ain’t no fire,” grunted the old 
janitor, who had joined them. “Leastways, 
this here school ain’t afire! What ye reckon 
I’d be havin’ a fire to-day for?” he asked in- 
dignantly. 

“Some one sounded the alarm from your box 
on the corner there!” the chief declared em- 
phatically. ‘ ‘ There ain ’t no doubt about that ! ’ ’ 

“The glass is broke,” said one of the fire- 
men. 

“It’s been broke for a long time,” said a 
child’s shrill voice in the crowd. 

“Some place must be burning, and we’re 
wasting valuable time,” said the chief nerv- 
ously, following Uncle, who, at the child’s 
words, had started off toward the alarm-box. 

The crowd surged after them. Uncle reached 
the box first, and, pulling away the glass, made 
a quick examination of the inside of the box. 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 139 

To the chief ’s disgust and amazement, he leaned 
up against the post and began to laugh. 

“What^s a-eatin’ youT’ grunted the chief, 
not very elegantly, but very angrily. 

<< There,’’ explained Uncle, as a little bird 
flew scolding about their heads; ^ There goes 
the guilty party. ’ ’ Then, pulling away the bits 
of broken glass still remaining, he showed them 
inside, — the nest and four young ones of a song- 
sparrow. But still the chief stared stupidly 
at him. 

Didn’t you see that little bird fly out of 
there?” explained Uncle, addressing the crowd, 
and pointing to the still remonstrating little 
mother-bird. ^‘She has built her nest in here. 
Doubtless she has gone in and out dozens of 
times without sounding the alarm until this 
time.” 

The chief looked about him at the crowd, and 
then laughing, a little ruefully perhaps, he said, 
‘^Who am I going to have arrested for sending 
in a false alarm? That little bird?” And the 
hot, good-natured crowd laughed with him, and 
one by one sauntered away to their homes, or 
business. 

^‘Oh, Rob,” cried Elizabeth, ‘^do you remem- 


140 TRAMPING AND CAMPING 

ber what you wished? That we neednT go to 
school, hut could hunt for the song-sparrow’s 
nest instead?” 

^‘We sure found it,” laughed Rob. ‘T’ll bet 
it ’s the very one we wanted to hunt ! ’ ’ 

“And maybe it’s our very own little Trix,” 
suggested Elizabeth. 

But the only way to prove that was to exam- 
ine her wing, and that could not be done. 

As the children and teachers, too, were much 
unnerved from the excitement, they were not 
called back for the afternoon session, so Rob 
had his further wish granted, that “something 
might happen to let them out of school. ’ ’ 

“Well,” said Rob, as , they discussed the 
“fire” at supper that evening, “if my wishes 
are going to be granted like that, I guess I ’ll be 
mighty careful how I wish. I might be like the 
boy that was turned into a calf!” 


CHAPTER XI 


UNCLE TO THEI RESCUE 

^‘The blackbirds make the maples ring, 

With social cheer and jubilee. 

The red-wing flutes his ‘Ok-alee V ” 

Since MarshalPs illness began, the days had 
never passed so swiftly or so pleasantly to him 
as they had since his uncle came, with his varied 
knowledge gained by much travel, much read- 
ing, and, most of all, by close attention to all 
that went on around him. He was a most in- 
teresting talker, and young folks loved him, for 
he seemed at heart as young as the youngest of 
them. 

With him Marshall read many books on 
various subjects, but especially those on orni- 
thology, for the birds were Uncle ^s hobby. The 
lad was astonished to find how interesting the 
little feathered creatures are, and how many of 
them came within sight of his bedroom window 
or the veranda. 

As spring melted into summer the birds grew 


142 


LITTLE FOLKS 


daily more numerous and varied. He never 
tired of watching them, and wished from his 
heart that he might tell other ‘ ‘ shut-ins ^ ^ what 
opportunities for pleasure there were for them 
within sight of their very windows, if they 
would but look for them. As he grew stronger 
and able to take short rambles about the big 
yard, his boy friends, coming to see him, be- 
came interested in the birds, and the interest 
spread to a few invalids in the neighborhood. 

One little boy, only seven years old, getting 
well after typhoid fever, sent word to Marshall 
that, lying on his couch by the window, he had 
counted twenty-seven varieties of birds in three 
weeks. 

The little kinglet, having the freedom of the 
room much of the time was a constant delight, 
and Marshall did not like to think of the day 
when he must set the little fellow free. ' 

Every Saturday, weather permitting, the 
other children took a long walk with their uncle. 
May, mth its bright, sunny days, brought many 
merry warblers from the south, and clothed 
the trees with leaves. The woods were full of 
life. Tiny furry things scampered in the trees 
overhead and in the leaves under foot. The 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 143 

streams were alive with flashing, darting fish; 
the trees and hushes with birds. 

The children could scarcely resist the desire 
to run and shout, as they wandered about among 
all this life. And how they did wish that some 
kind fairy would teach them how to tell the timid 
little wood-folk that they would not harm them. 

One warm afternoon they had come a long 
distance, expecting to remain and eat their 
luncheon in the woods. Before they had been 
in the woods an hour, Rob had rubbed the knees 
of his overalls quite through, and Elizabeth had 
left samples of her dress upon several black- 
berry-bushes, — all that they might peep into the 
heart of some little songster ^s home, or watch 
the little parent birds so busily building their 
nests. So the first hour or two passed pleas- 
antly but uneventfully. 

Then, lying upon his back, leisurely watching 
a hawk sailing majestically about above his 
head. Uncle was suddenly brought up standing 
by shrieks of real terror from Elizabeth. He 
sprang to his feet and ran toward the sound 
of her voice. They had been following the 
river, and her cries now came from the direction 
of the marsh. 


144 


LITTLE FOLKS 


It was a beautiful spot that she led him to. 
The water stood in pools here and there, spar- 
kling in the glorious spring sunshine. Tall 
ferns fringed each little pool, and pond-lilies, 
not yet opening their sleepy eyes, lay upon the 
still bosom of the water. Tall rushes and un- 
ripe cattails nodded at their own reflections in 
the unruffled mirror. A more peaceful scene 
could scarcely have been imagined, save for 
Elizabeth’s frightened cries. 

Uncle found her standing in the marsh, the 
water almost up to her boot-tops, her face 
quite pale, her eyes dilated with horror. She 
stood so still that Uncle thought for one hor- 
rible moment that she was caught in quick- 
sand, and his long legs speeding through the 
marsh seemed bound with chains. But he was 
soon reassured. 

A half -decayed log lay in the water, partly 
hidden by rushes. Above it, gently swaying in 
the breeze, was the nest of a red-winged black- 
bird. The little ones, lately hatched, their little 
heads stretched above the nest’s edge, were call- 
ing loudly for food. 

On the log, changing this little scene of do- 
mestic harmony to one of hideous discord, lay a 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 145 

huge water-snake, arch-enemy of the marsh- 
birds. His long neck was stretched far out, his 
horrid head raised high and swaying back and 
forth, now very near the nest. Uncle’s face 
may have paled some, too, when he saw the ugly 
creature, and he quickly ordered Elizabeth back, 
though he knew well that she was in no danger 
from the snake ; but there is something strangely 
repulsive to almost any one in a slimy water- 
snake. 

The mother-bird fluttered wildly about the 
nest, giving strange cries of terror as she con- 
stantly drew nearer and nearer to those glitter- 
ing eyes fixed on her little ones. The father- 
bird, his glossy black wings adorned with 
bright-red epaulets edged with yellow, flashing 
in the sun, flew bravely back and forth across 
the snake’s back, screaming piteously, vainly 
striving to attract its attention to himself. 

‘^Oh, Uncle,” wailed Elizabeth, ^‘why don’t 
they fly away?” 

u There are young in the nest,” he answered. 
‘^The mother would give up her life for them.” 

As he spoke he splashed through the marsh, 
straight toward the snake. He had no stick or 
stone with which to kill it, but he threw up his 


LITTLE FOLKS 


146 

hands and shouted, hoping to frighten it away. 
Alas! He was too far away, or its attention 
was too firmly fixed upon the delicious dinner so 
near at hand. Its eyes seemed fastened upon 
the mother-bird now, and, as its slippery body 
glided nearer and nearer, the forked tongue 
flashed greedily in and out, as if already tasting 
the delicate titbits. 

The male bird, as if recognizing in the snake 
the common enemy of bird and man, now flew 
toward Uncle, plainly imploring him, by calls 
and motions, to save his treasures. 

The mother-bird at last dropped in despair to 
the nest, no longer shrieking her fear, but her 
whole little body shaking with horror of that 
awful thing so near. Her little heart seemed 
about to burst with its fierce beating. The 
hopeless terror in her eyes would have made the 
hardest heart long to save her. 

Louder and louder were the little father’s 
cries, as he dashed again, and again at the snake, 
who paid not the slightest attention to him. 

Back and forth swayed the ugly black head. 

Lower and lower crouched the little mother, 
her head thrown back, her agonized eyes fixed 
on the beady black ones of the snake. 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 147 

Nearer and nearer came the crawling, slip- 
pery body. Lower and lower swung the hideous 
head. The vital moment came! The»head of 
the snake ceased swinging, was drawn far back 
to strike! 

The little mother flattened herself above her 
little ones, her warm mother-breast shielding 
the precious wee things beneath her to her last 
breath. 

But the snake was not to have things all his 
own way. Suddenly Uncle heard footsteps 
splashing toward him through the marsh. 
Then at his feet fell a huge stick, and 
Elizabeth's voice cried, ‘‘Kill it! Kill it! 
Oh, kill it quick with that stick ! ’ ’ 

Before she had finished speaking. Uncle seized 
the stick, raised it high above the snake’s back, 
and struck with all the strength of his strong 
right arm. The blow landed squarely across the 
back of the ugly reptile’s neck, and with a hor- 
rible doubling, writhirg motion it slid ofi of the 
log into the water. 

With a shout of triumph Uncle leaped after 
it. In a very few moments the creature lay 
dead at his feet, still writhing, but forever 
harmless. When Uncle returned to Elizabeth 


148 LITTLE FOLKS 

he found her quite unnerved and crying pite- 
ously. 

‘‘Come, come!^’ said he, patting her kindly 
on the shoulder. “You were a brave girl to 
come back with the stick. You mustn’t give 
Eob a chance to laugh at you now. Come with 
me and let us see how the birds are taking their 
rescue. They ought to be receiving congratula- 
tions, and should thank you for being their de- 
liverer. ’ ’ 

They found the father-bird perched on a 
swaying cattail, pouring his heart out in a 
song of thanksgiving. The little mother bird 
still crouched trembling above her little ones, 
her eyes wild with fear. 

Going back into the water. Uncle pushed the 
log far enough away from the nest to prevent 
another snake from looking there for his din- 
ner. Then they left the little family to regain 
its composure alone. 

For an hour they wandered about the woods, 
making interesting little discoveries here and 
there, when livelj^ but silent gesticulations on 
Bob’s part called them all down to the bank 
of a little stream that babbled merrily in and 
out among the trees. 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 149 

‘ ^ I saw the prettiest little animals just now, ’ * 
he whispered cautiously. 

^ ^They’re over there in the bushes now. I 
think theydl come out in a minute.’’ They 
watched silently for several minutes. 

Then Rob continued, peering eagerly about; 
‘ ‘ I think it was a mink. The little ones were so 
pretty. ’ ’ 

mink!” cried Uncle. ‘‘Oh, no, Rob; I 
don’t think it could have been a mink, so near 
to a city as this.” 

And even as he spoke, a pretty little creature, 
not unlike a cat, and followed by three beautiful 
black-and-white kittens, crept noiselessly down 
to the stream to drink. 

“There! There!” cried Rob, much excited. 
“See! there they are. Uncle!” 

But he could scarcely believe his eyes when he 
saw his Uncle, whom he had never known to 
show fear of any animal, grasp a little girl in 
each hand and strike out through the woods on 
a run, without any regard for direction, and 
calling loudly for Rob to follow. 

“Why, Uncle!” exclaimed Rob breathlessly, 
when at last his uncle dropped down upon a 
mossy bank, shaking with laughter. “Why, 


LITTLE FOLKS 


150 

Uncle, I wanted to kodak them for Marshall!’’ 

‘^Oh, Eoh! Eob!” he cried; '‘you surely had 
a narrow escape, and the rest of us also!” 

Eoh’s face turned very red, for he knew that 
for some reason his uncle was laughing at him, 
and he did dislike to show any ignorance before 
the girls. 

"I don’t see why,” he said a trifle sulkily. 
' ' It would have made an awfully nice picture. ’ ’ 
As, indeed, it would have done. 

"I wanted one of those kitties,” pouted Car- 
oline, "to take home to the boys.” 

"And,” complained Elizabeth, "you fright- 
ened us awfully!” 

"Well,” said Uncle, laughing apologetically, 
"I seem to have offended the whole family. 
But that is not so bad as it would have been to 
have offended one of those pretty ‘kittens.’ I 
had no time to explain my hurry, for, like ‘time 
and tide,’ skunks ‘wait for no man.’ ” 

Skunks ! cried the children in one voice. 

"Yes, skunks, pole-cats, or ‘seganku,’ as the 
Indians call them, whichever name you like 
best. They’ll answer the same way to any of 
’em.” Then, laughing again, he said, "Oh, 
Eob, if that little cat had seen you, you could not 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 151 

have gone in polite society this summer! No, 
I am exaggerating,’^ he corrected himself, ^^but 
let me advise you; never meddle with those 
pretty animals. Their only means of defense 
is to throw upon their enemies a most foul- 
smelling fluid, the odor of which it is impossible 
to remove from the clothing. Perhaps it is just 
as well that you saw them, for now you will 
know enough to avoid them. It is rather un- 
usual for them to be drinking at this time of 
day.” 

Poor Rob, looking very shame-faced over his 
mistake, tried bravely to join in his uncle’s 
laughter. 

They ate their luncheon beside the stream. 
Uncle talking to them throughout the meal of 
the birds and animals they had seen, and the 
flowers and ferns and trees about them. All 
nature was his well-loved friend, and he en- 
joyed nothing better than pointing out her se- 
crets to others, and discussing her wonders with 
them. 

After luncheon they lay resting upon the 
grass under the great forest-trees, standing as 
they stood when the Indians wandered among 
them not so many years ago, when Uncle discov- 


LITTLE FOLKS 


152 

ered, hidden from all but the sharpest eyes, in 
a tangle of blackberry bushes near by, the nest 
of a yellow-breasted chat. Here, indeed, might 
be a treat for the children! Cautioning them 
to be quiet, he led them down into a little ravine, 
where he made them lie down upon the ground 
behind a fallen stump overgrown by vines. 

They were barely comfortably hidden, when 
up from some ferns a little way off flew the male 
chat, alighting close by the nest. He was a 
handsome bird, his hack, head, and wings of 
olive green, and his under-parts a beautiful 
golden yellow. 

While the children lay admiring him, sud- 
denly, more as if leaping than flying, he sprang 
almost straight up in the air, singing, if one 
could so call the ridiculous squawks that he 
gave as he flew. The children thought that 
they had frightened him, but, as if suddenly 
changing his mind as to where he wished to go, 
he flew back beside the nest. A moments rest 
followed, and then, squawking and whistling, up 
he went into the air again, legs hanging loosely, 
wings flapping wildly, a most awkward and 
ridiculous-looking bird. 

The children, their eyes very wide-open. 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 153 

looked questioningly at their uncle, who was 
having hard work to keep from laughing aloud, 
not only at the comical antics of the chat, but at 
the solemn wonder in the children’s eyes. 
‘‘What is the matter with him. Uncle T’ whis- 
pered Caroline, unable to restrain her curiosity 
any longer. “Has he gone crazyf^^ 

“Oh, no,” her uncle assured her, his broad 
shoulders shaking with silent laughter. “He 
is only doing that to entertain his little wife. 
It is lonely work sitting so long alone on a nest, 
so this bird entertains his wife. ’ ’ 

Elizabeth’s eyes opened wider than ever, and 
I am not sure that her mouth did not follow suit. 
“Why, Uncle!” was all she gasped. 

As she spoke, the chat turned almost a com- 
plete somersault in the air, alighting, with his 
favorite squawk, very near his little wife, where 
he then stood, bobbing and bowing in a most 
absurd fashion, while his patient little mate 
looked on, sometimes as if bored, at others as 
if admiring him greatly. 

When the children finally realized that the 
chat was only giving them a glimpse of his cus- 
tomary vaudeville performance, they could 
not suppress their mirth, and were obliged to 


154 


LITTLE FOLKS 


slip away, lest they frighten the happy pair with 
their giggling. 

‘‘Let me tell you what has been written of the 
chat,’* said Uncle, as they resumed their walk. 
And, rambling along under the trees, with his 
hat in his hand, a habit of his, he recited the 
following poem by Charles C. Abbott : 

mournful cry from the thickets here, ' 

A scream from the fields afar; 

The chirp from a summer warbler near. 

Of a spring-tide song, a bar; 

Then rattle and rasp, 

A groan, a laugh. 

Till we fail to grasp 
These sounds by half. 

That come from the throat of the ghostly chat. 

An imp if there is one, be sure of that ! 


‘^Aloft in the summer air he springs; 

To his timid mate he calls; 

With dangling legs and fiuttering wings, 
On the tangled smilax falls; 

He mutters, he shrieks, — 

A hopeless cry; 

You think that he seeks 
In peace to die; 

But pity him not ; ^t is the ghostly chat. 
An imp, if there is one, be sure of that! 

^^Afar in the gloomy swamp where flits 
The will-o’-the-wisp by night. 



Rambling along under the trees, with his hat in his 

HAND, HE RECITED A POEM. Page I $ 4 . 



i-i-- ■' ‘ ■• ^ ■ -'•' ■ ' ■ I < ■ ■ ' '-Qi ^ 


•^il 


r I '•# 1 * 




4 « 




I ,• » 

II..V 



, *;u ^ 

ii Jk .‘ ■,^ 


t 


r* ' 









> <> 




<«r* 


*is 'tfi.: 



» > 



'. '^ I " - r* •* 

» - ..» .V I V jw-; C'T^ 

• * • %. . ♦ '-J * . ♦...I'^fv -r: 


'S , ;>>•; . 

“^5 •' 3 





>- 


T. .i- 





i ^ 




• V- . 








'a. 


( 4 




• a ‘ -A. 


.> 


(A . <fc 

‘ •: > « 


'i 


T ■ ' '.r . '■ 


\ V 




- ^ 1 : ' V 

iL. ^ r^ 4 . iV 

;V. 


“ '• ‘V' . 

f .-,' ^ 4 r 





r ^ 







.1 


•yi' 





4*- • 


i» • If 


•-« -inV. 





, * » • . t \ 


; Ty 


^‘O 


>* y if^ -• ■* . * ■' •* •• Jr/. 

a* ■ •. ‘‘f ' ^ ': 





- » W** ' •» . -- ^ - - . . 4it3P , ^ .j.\ U( 

Si?-:,’":' " -f 






■TRAMPING AND CAMPING 155 

Tlie elf a-dreaming, restless, sits, 

And mutters his strange delight, 

In quavers and sharps. 

And flute-like note, 

With twang of harps 
That swell the throat 
Of the mystical, weird, uncanny chat. 

In league with foul spirits, I’m sure of that!” 

Caroline wandered away after a while, tired 
of watching the birds, and amused herself by 
gathering wild flowers, of which there was an 
abundance. 

Pushing aside some ferns and last-year’s 
leaves, she came all unexpectedly upon a charm- 
ing little picture. Near the roots of a rugged 
old oak, close by the little brooklet, where slen- 
der yellow lilies bent their graceful heads to 
coquette with tall, lover-like ferns that swept 
their soft petals with a light caress ; and 
where saucy johnny- jump-ups winked at the shy 
maiden-hair ferns, who nodded back at them, as 
if to say, ‘‘We know! We know something”; 
with all these loyal friends at hand to protect 
her precious secret, sat a bright-eyed oven-bird 
mother at * the door of her little home. So 
charmed was the child with the beauty of it, 
that she stood motionless, for once, silent ; and. 


LITTLE FOLKS 


156 

as if to complete the picture, through the leaves 
came, stepping daintily, the little father-bird. 

Slipping quickly and quietly away, after a 
moment, Caroline ran to her uncle, much ex- 
cited at her discovery, exclaiming: ‘‘Come! 
Come ! Oh, Uncle, it is such a little darling, — 
the bird IVe found. She was sitting there at 
that dear little door in the side, ^ ’ she explained, 
“and I almost put my hand on her! And the 
little papa came, too. And, of course I ’spect 
when I jumped up to come to you they both 
flew away. But the nest is here, ’ ^ she assured 
him, as she dropped to her knees beside it. 

‘ ‘ Can you tell me what she looks like ? ’ ’ asked 
Uncle, knowing very well, as soon as he saw the 
nest, what bird had built it. 

“Oh, yes,^’ Caroline answered confidently. 
“She was such a darling Caroline loved that 
word. “She was a kind of a green on top and 
on her wings; and underneath she was white, 
with black spots. But he was the prettiest, for 
he had on the cutest little yellow cap — ^dark 
yellow — 

“ Orange suggested Uncle. 

“Yes, orange, with black stripes on each side. 
Something, just a little, like King’s.’’ 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 157 

‘^Good!’^ cried Uncle, well pleased. ‘^You 
are learning to observe. Now one peep at her 
eggs and then we must leave, lest we frighten 
her away. She may be watching us now. It is 
the little oven-bird, so called because her nest, 
with the little opening in the side, resembles an 
Indian oven.’^ 

The afternoon was now far advanced, and the 
children, tired with their long walk, hastened 
their footsteps and were soon on the car, speed- 
ing toward home, well pleased with their day’s 
experiences. And as they rode home Uncle 
taught them the following little poem about the 
oven-bird, for he believed this to be one of the 
pleasantest ways for a child to learn the char- 
acteristics of the birds. 

The Oven Bird 

the days of spring migrations, 

Days when warbler hosts move northward, 

To the forests, to the leaf beds, 

Comes the tiny oven-builder. 

“Daintily the leaves he tip-toes; 

Underneath them builds his oven. 

Arched and framed with last-year^s oak-leaves, 
Roofed and walled against the rain-drops. 

“Hour by hour his voice he raises. 

Mingling with the red-eye’s snatches. 


158 TRAMPING AND CAMPING 

Answering to the hermit’s anthem; 

Rising, falling, like a wind-breath. 

^^Strange ventriloquism the music. 

Far away when close beside one; 

Near at hand when seeming distant; 

Weird his plaintive accrescendo.” 


CHAPTER XII 

THE WKENS^ INTRODUCTION TO THE WOELD 

^‘With head up and tail up 
The wren begins to sing ; 

He fills the air with melody, 

And makes the alders ring.” 

C. C. M. 

Foe more than a week wee brown heads had 
been appearing at the door of the wren-honse. 
During the unusually warm weather the door- 
way had been so constantly blocked by a little 
head, sometimes by two, that Marshall began to 
be anxious lest enough fresh air should not 
enter to supply the other babies in the box. 
Uncle, fortunately, had built the little house 
with the roof raised about half an inch in front, 
and with several small holes in it, which is an 
excellent way to insure good ventilation. 

When the two little heads were poked through 
the door, it really seemed completely tilled, and 
this so often happened that the children won- 
dered whether there might not be just two 
wrens in the box. 


159 


i6o LITTLE FOLKS 

Mamma Wren did all the feeding now, and 
when her feet would alight upon the little house, 
what a clamor would go up from those hungry 
throats! At first the little heads at the door 
would instantly disappear within, and Mamma 
Wren would enter with refreshments. But, as 
they grew older, the babies would wait and beg 
for the dainty at the door, much as human 
babies do. They did not tease long, however, 
but when she told them in plain ‘^wren Latin’’ 
that this time the titbit was for ‘‘Teddy” or 
“Susy,” perhaps, they would scramble aside 
and allow her to pass in. 

Marshall never wearied of watching this little 
act in bird-life drama. 

From the day that the little wrens were 
hatched. Mamma Wren showed her great dis- 
approval of company. She would allow no one 
to come nearer to her castle than Marshall’s 
bedside, which was about twelve feet from the 
box. Marshall, however, seemed to be privi- 
leged, for she never scolded him. From the 
first day, when she had inspected and accepted 
him, she paid no more attention to him than she 
did to a post of the veranda, except when she 
imagined that her babies were in danger. Then 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING i6i 


she would alight as near to him as she dared 
and scream frantically nntil help came. Let 
any one else come near, however, and Madame, 
without even dropping her babies^ dinner from 
her mouth, would send forth a stream of abuse, 
which, if translated into English, would have 
been anything but polite. 

One Sunday morning in the latter part of 
June, Marshall called Uncle from his newspaper 
and late breakfast to tell him that Papa Wren 
seemed to be staying at home over Sunday, and 
Mamma Wren was giving a strange new call to 
the little ones, which seemed to excite them 
vastly, and the meaning of which he could not 
discover. 

^‘But there’s sure something doing,” he as- 
sured his uncle, just as the new call came loud 
and clear. 

There stood Mamma Wren on the porch-rail, 
but a few feet from the wren-box, a fine, fat, 
green worm in her beak, held well out of reach, 
but in full view of the imploring little ones at 
the door. 

<‘Why, she says, ‘Come to Mamma,’ ” 
laughed Uncle. “Don’t you hear it?” 

At the words Caroline appeared at the win- 


LITTLE FOLKS 


162 

dow on the veranda, a new shoe in each hand, 
being engaged just then in the business of 
dressing for Sunday School. 

‘‘What are they doing? she cried; and, at 
her words, the other children appeared also, in 
various stages of dress. 

Aunty and Mamma had joined Uncle on the 
porch with Marshall, and now Elizabeth must 
have a ribbon tied, and Caroline her hair 
combed. Bob must have his necktie tied, and 
the twins were always present where there was 
promise of any excitement. So in a very few 
moments they were all gathered on the porch, 
watching the birds. 

“He’s coming out,” cried Caroline through 
Uncle’s fingers, which had been quickly clapped 
over her mouth. 

And, indeed, one little wren had struggled so 
violently to reach his dinner that one wing was 
forced quite through the door. But my ! How 
he scurried back into the security of his own 
little home, frightened half out of his wits at 
his wonderful feat. The big green worm dan- 
gled invitingly near. Mamma Wren called in 
sweet, encouraging tones. Papa Wren, in the 
vines below, sung glorious songs of a world 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 163 

of sunshine and liberty. Another mighty strug- 
gle toward the worm. Horror ! One little foot 
was quite out upon the perch! He hung there 
for a moment, and then made a quick movement 
back toward the refuge of home. 

But alas! He had not calculated correctly, 
and, after a breathless moment of fluttering, 
stood upright upon the perch outside the door. 
Oh, the beautiful, great, green world! The 
blue, blue roof above, to which he was sure 
he could fly! The dark green-carpeted floor! 
All, all called to him to come. The wonderful 
wind through the trees almost blew him off the 
perch. How important he felt, as he straight- 
ened himself and fluffed up his feathers. 

Mamma Wren now flew to the top of the little 
house and held the titbit dangling temptingly 
above him, all unconscious of the many eyes 
watching her. The little son stretched his 
small neck eagerly, reaching his best for that de- 
licious green worm, until he looked quite over 
the top of the house, his broad mouth wide- 
open, never doubting that mother would All it. 

Alas! Back went Mamma with her dainty! 
Oh, the indignation in that small son^s body! 
Every feather seemed to bristle with anger. 


LITTLE FOLKS 


164 

What an angry chirp! What a way to speak 
to Mother! A lively flirt of that small excuse 
for a tail, and — alas, for those who lose their 
temper ! — he lost his balance, and otf he went, — 
down, down, down! But, quicker than the eye 
could follow his motions, he caught himself, 
and, with an upward swing of his body, up he 
went to the top of the little house. 

^‘Well done!’^ cried Uncle under his breath, 
softly clapping his hands. 

‘‘Well done!’’ sang Papa Wren from the elm 
tree. And what a petting little Wren Jr. got 
from Mamma Wren. She popped the rather 
shopworn-looking worm down his hungrj^ throat, 
and plainly said a few wren words of praise. 
Then she dressed his ruffled feathers tenderly, 
and away she flew to talk it all over with Papa 
Wren. 

‘ ‘ Ya-ay ! ’ ’ wailed the baby. ‘ ‘ Ya-ap ! Don ’t 
leave me all alone ! ’ ’ And, tumbling wildly off 
the roof of the house, amid the applause of the 
entire audience, human and bird, away he flew, 
swift and true, to the elm tree, mother, father, 
and dinner. 

Two little brown heads were still in the round 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 165 

door, calling loudly for ‘ ^ Mamma, who paid 
no attention to them whatever. 

The hour for Sunday school came, and the 
little Marsdens were loath to go and leave such 
a fascinating entertainment ; but the grovui folks 
were firm, and very reluctantly they started off 
upon their wheels. Twice they returned on 
some trivial errand, really for one more peep at 
the birds. 

Down under the trees the parent-birds were 
very much occupied in teaching the lone little 
explorer the ways of the world. Now and then 
Mamma Wren would bring a worm and fill •a. 
little gaping mouth, but she did not once call 
the little ones to leave the box. 

‘^That call,^’ Marshall said, ‘‘was entirely dif- 
ferent from any other, and he would know it 
anywhere.’’ 

Not until the children returned at noon, 
flushed and excited, eager to hear the latest 
news of the Wren family, did Mamma Wren re- 
new her efforts at launching her little ones upon 
the world. 

Soon after their return, she appeared with 
the same kind of a fat green worm, and the 


LITTLE FOLKS 


1 66 

same coaxing call. In ten minutes little Wren 
No. 2 was out upon the perch, and two brown 
heads were still in the door. This little fellow 
took one good look at the green world about 
him, and, perhaps overcome by its promised 
joys, lost his balance and fell, fluttering wildly 
down into the vines below. Mamma Wren 
dropped like a dart after him, where she seemed 
to consider him very well otf, and, after giving 
him the green worm, she returned at once to 
her third darling, with the usual offering and 
coaxing call. He came out very quickly, hesi- 
tating less than either of the others. 

Perhaps, said Marshall, ‘‘he has been tak- 
ing notes, and is profiting by their experiences.’^ 

And still there were two brown heads in the 
door. Mamma Wren went off for a little while 
now, perhaps to get her own dinner, but soon 
returned with the usual dainty. 

“I wonder,” said Caroline, “if the little 
wrens like nasty green worms as we like 
candy.” 

While Mother Wren was coaxing the fourth 
young hopeful, Mr. Marsden came home to din- 
ner and was immediately gathered into the 
circle. 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 167 

Little Wren No. 4 did not falter long, and 
again the children shouted that there were ^ ^ still 
two heads in the door.’’ 

‘‘How could she have raised so many in that 
small place?” wondered Mamma, who liked 
plenty of room for her family. “What 
.obedient children they must have been to get 
along in such close quarters!” 

Papa, who had just left the hot streets of the 
city, thought it was remarkable that none of 
them had died from the heat. 

While they were watching No. 5 hesitating 
anxiously upon the brink of this new strange 
world, the maid came to say that dinner was 
served. 

“Oh, no,” cried Elizabeth. “You come and 
see the little wrens coming out. ’ ’ And Mamma, 
seeing that it would be hard to tear them away 
from this fascinating corner so long as a brown 
head peeped out of the box, kindly made room 
for the girl in their circle. 

While she stood hesitating, away flew No. 5, 
and now No. 6 and 7 were crowding one another 
in the door. 

“Ten little, nine little, eight little, wrennies,” 
chanted Caroline, while the others joined in, 


LITTLE FOLKS 


1 68 

and Rob wound up with, ‘ ‘ two little wren-heads 
still in the door.’’ 

So, amid much happy chatter, they watched 
until seven little wrens had left the home-nest. 

‘‘Won’t they ever come back?” asked Car- 
oline, with a very long face, as the last little 
bird flew away, and left the little bird-house 
looking very empty and deserted. 

“Not this year,” answered Uncle. “Next 
year those, or some other wrens, will probably 
nest here again. Sometimes, however, they do 
raise two broods in one summer.” 

“Oh, good! Good!” cried Elizabeth. “I’m 
sure they ’ll come back here if they do. They ’ve 
had such a good time here.” 

As she spoke ’Merica appeared at the door. 
“You-all’s dinne’ ’s gwine get all cole,” she 
grumbled. Spoiled, as she had spoiled Mam- 
ma’s children, the kind-hearted old nurse said 
about what she pleased, and the family laughed. 
So now, they trudged meekly out to dinner at 
her call. 

“Uncle,” said Rob, at the table, a little later, 
“why was that last wren so much stronger and 
better able to fly than the first one ? He didn ’t 
hesitate at all. ’ ’ 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 169 

‘^Robert/’ said Uncle, laughing, ‘‘that^s just 
what I was thinking of asking you, for I’m sure 
I don’t know. But you kids always can get in 
ahead with the questions.” 


CHAPTER XIII 


MARSHALL ENTERTAINS 

“Spring once said to the nightingale, 

‘I mean to give you birds a ball, 

Pray, Ma’am, ask the birdies all. 

Birds and birdies great and small.’ ” 

‘‘Marshall will be sixteen years old next 
Saturday,’’ announced Rob, one warm June 
morning at the breakfast table. “I asked him 
how he wanted us to celebrate, and he just 
frowned and said, ‘ Oh, forget it ! Shut up ! ’ I 
haven’t seen him so cross in a long while.” 

Mamma sighed, her heart aching for her sick 
boy, who still felt himself so unfitted for fes- 
tivities. Papa looked troubled, and rustled his 
newspaper, as if about to make a remark, then 
thought better of it, and said nothing. 

“I wish it were one of our birthdays,” rattled 
on Rob thoughtlessly, “and then Uncle would 
think of some dandy picnic or something. But 
we all have ’em in the winter. ’ ’ 

“But how about Marshall’s?” asked Eliza- 
beth, hopeful of some festivity. “His is now.” 

170 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 171 

‘ ‘ Poor Marshall ! ^ ’ said Uncle. But the tones 
of his voice were not so sad as his words, for he 
was growing more hopeful every day that Mar- 
shall would yet he a strong and healthy man. 
^‘He has been wonderfully brave, he con- 
continued, ^‘and I suppose he thinks that he 
ought to be allowed to get in the dumps once in 
a while. But he mustn^t. There is nothing 
better than inward — except outward — sunshine, 
for curing this body^s ills. Yes, we must all 
put our wits to work, and think of some way of 
brightening 'his birthday. ’ ’ 

Nothing further was said upon the subject 
just then, but all afternoon, when visiting a few 
patients whom he had taken in the suburbs, 
Rob’s words kept recurring to him, Uncle 
would do something.” 

It was late in June. The weather was warm 
and pleasant. Marshall was making wonder- 
ful improvement in the summer sunshine, and 
now walked about the house frequently, and 
sometimes ventured into the yard, with Uncle ’s 
arm for a support. But Uncle thought he was 
not yet strong enough to venture on a picnic, 
so all afternoon he turned the matter over in 
his mind. 


LITTLE FOLKS 


172 

When he came home that night, he and 
Mamma shut themselves up in the library for 
a long time, a proceeding which aroused the 
dhildren^s curiosity to such an extent that 
’Merica told them that ^'dey-all bettah watch 
out, fo’ curiosity done kill a monkey once.’’ 

The result of the conference was the an- 
nouncement from Uncle that Marshall was to 
have a party! 

‘‘Marshall? A party!” cried the astonished 
youngsters. “Why, how can he give a party? 
He can’t even go to one!” 

“Yes,” said Uncle, enjoying the excitement 
he had created, “he can give one. This is to be 
a birthday party, and a dandy one, too. It will 
not be a very large affair, and you youngsters 
will be expected to entertain the guests, the ma- 
jority of whom will not be able to entertain 
themselves. ’ ’ 

For three days the children were very busy 
with their preparations. The party was to take 
place on Marshall ’s veranda. One end had been 
curtained off for a stage, for the entertainment 
was to be somewhat in the nature of charades. 
This end of the porch had a window opening 
into Mamma’s room, which window would be 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 173 

used as an entrance and exit to the stage. 
Mamma’s room was to be the dressing-room. 
Cards had been issued, reading thus : 

Marshall Marsden, 

AT HOME 

“Birds’ Haven.” 

2 P. M. to 5 P. M. 

To meet the birds. Charades. 

All morning of the day of the party, the chil- 
dren, with Uncle’s help, were very busy decor- 
ating the stage and arranging the veranda. 
Marshall’s bed had been carried inside, and a 
number of easy-chairs were scattered about, 
with low chairs and camp-stools placed here and 
there among them. 

It was a queer collection of guests for a boy’s 
party, that arrived promptly at two o’clock. 
A dozen of Marshall’s classmates were there, 
and the rest of the guests were chosen from 
Uncle’s convalescent patients, who had become 
interested in the birds through hearing him 
talk about them. 

First of these came the little boy who had 
counted such a variety from his chamber-win- 
dow. A little crippled girl of Elizabeth’s age 
came next, and after her came a charming old 


174 


LITTLE FOLKS 


English gentleman suffering from the gout, who 
told them many interesting facts about the birds 
of old England. A young man troubled with 
rheumatism hobbled over on his crutches. One 
or two other semi-invalids followed, and were 
soon all comfortably seated, rapidly getting ac- 
quainted with the strong young girls and boys 
scattered among them. A merry crowd it was, 
and among the merriest were some of those who 
were not well. 

The children distributed some beautiful col- 
ored plates and illustrated books of birds to 
the guests, and Uncle gave them a short and 
jolly talk on the subject, during which the twins 
and Caroline wiggled and twisted, impatient 
for the crowning events of the afternoon. And 
when he announced that some living pictures 
would now follow, they bounded otf to the dress- 
ing-room. 

As each picture was to represent some bird 
whose name the guest must guess, they were al- 
lowed to retain the books and plates to assist 
them, for most of them were astonishingly igno- 
rant of their native birds. 

When the curtain was drawn aside a very fat, 
very black, and very large negro ‘‘baby^^ was 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 175 

revealed, dressed in a long brown gown, and 
creeping aronnd and around an imitation tree- 
trunk made out of brown paper. After cir- 
cling the ‘‘tree’’ several times, this remarkable 
baby sprang to his feet and raced otf the stage 
to the dressing-room, where he was caught in 
Aunty’s arms and hugged close, and the little 
black face kissed, “even before the black was 
scrubbed oif,” as James said, and Sherburne’s 
red cheeks brought to the surface once more. 

Marshall, who was not in the secret of the 
pictures, quickly guessed this one, but, not 
thinking it quite polite for him to guess the first 
one, he kept silent, and was rewarded by hear- 
ing the little crippled girl say shyly, “Could 
it be the brown creeper?” 

The little audience was quite delighted with 
her happy guess, and applauded loudly, immedi- 
ately entering merrily into the game. 

The next time the curtain was drawn, Eliza- 
beth and America, who was thoroughly enjoy- 
ing the fun, appeared side by side, and sang 
softly one stanza of a familiar song. When 
they bowed themselves oif the stage so quickly 
the audience was completely mystified. Some 
of them guessed it was “some kind of a black- 


176 LITTLE FOLKS 

bird.’’ Even Marshall ran over the names of 
many familiar birds, but was still in the 
‘‘dark,” when one of the young men, Avith 
conscious pride, exclaimed, “I’ve got it! I 
know! the black-and-white warbler!” 

His guess was received with much applause, 
and the children hastened to put on the next pic- 
ture. 

This time Uncle announced that the charade 
was to represent two birds. It was some time 
before the children had things arranged to their 
satisfaction, but when they did draw the curtain 
it was upon a gorgeous scene. 

Eob appeared seated upon a “throne” [a big 
armchair covered with bearskin from the living- 
room.] On his head was a magnificent “golden 
crown” [gilt paper], set with a huge “di- 
amond” [a vinegar-cruet stopper], in the mid- 
dle of the front. Big red “rubies” [Caroline’s 
glass beads] studded the sides. About his 
shoulders was a fur cape of Mamma ’s, with the 
lilac silk lining outside. He wore short velve- 
teen trousers, pumps with big gilt buckles, and 
some pink silk party-stockings of Mamma’s, 
through which he was fast poking his toes. On 
the floor beside him sat James in his very best 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 177 

little black velvet suit, and also in crown and 
robes. The company quickly guessed the king- 
bird, but it required many hints from the chil- 
dren before they recognized in James the 
kinglet. 

The next scene showed Sherburne with 
sleeves rolled up, a sofa pillow inside his blouse 
to give him a big stomach, and a long white 
apron on, that reached from his chin to his 
toes. In his hand he brandished a huge carv- 
ing-knife. Altogether he was a charming and 
plump little butcher. On the table before him 
lay a leg of mutton, which the children had 
found in the ice-box, ready for to-morrow’s 
dinner, and this he slashed with a right good 
will ; which unrehearsed performance disturbed 
Mamma not a little. And in the middle of the 
scene old ’Merica’s voice was heard exclaiming 
in a loud stage whisper, ‘‘Heah, you-all done 
mint dat leg 0’ mutton! Who tote it out dar 
any^vay? ’Twon’t be no good at all if you-all 
cyaVe it To’ it’s cooked!” 

The curtain was hastily drawn, and several 
voices from the audience were heard at once, 
crying, ‘‘The butcher-bird! The butcher- 
bird!” 


LITTLE FOLKS 


178 

The next time the curtain was not raised, but 
a large picture of a turkey was pinned upon it, 
and then it was left to the old gentleman from 
England to suggest the oven-bird ! 

A cat borrowed for the occasion, and cozily 
curled up in the basket in which she had traveled 
from the neighbor's, represented a catbird. 

Caroline, dressed in a little green gown and 
singing a simple little ditty, while she en- 
deavored to balance an orange upon her head, 
was revealed as the orange-crowned warbler. 

Another scene showed James noisily drinking 
water. In his violent efforts to make as much 
noise as possible he choked, and had to be as- 
sisted from the stage, Rob vigorously pounding 
him on the back the while. The guests, think- 
ing the choking and pounding a part of the 
scene, guessed all manner of things, among 
them the whip-poor-will, and at last ^ ^ gave up. ’ ’ 
To their surprise it was not the rare bird they 
expected, but only our simple little swallow. 

Elizabeth, dressed in a blue dress of Mam- 
mals represented the indigo-bunting; and Rob 
and Elizabeth, each handing the other a one- 
dollar bill, were quickly guessed as the Ameri- 
can crossbill. 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 179 

Several other pictures followed, and all were 
received with much laughter and fun. 

When Elizabeth had made her last appear- 
ance upon the stage, she slipped away to the 
kitchen, where a most wonderful salad, which 
she had made ‘‘all alone,’’ was awaiting the 
hpishing touches. 

At the last moment the ingredients must all 
be put into a large bowl and thoroughly mixed 
with a dressing. This, too, she must do alone, 
as well as to serve it on Mamma’s very best 
salad-plates. 

When Sherburne and James had finished 
their parts in the charades they followed her. 
Their wee noses were always turned up and 
sniffing like rabbits when baking was going on, 
and they could always be found in or near the 
kitchen. 

They were bothering no one this time, how- 
ever, for they had found some soap and were 
seated quietly enough upon the back steps, 
blowing bubbles. 

Elizabeth hastened to don her dainty white 
apron and set about mixing the salad. How 
snowy-white the dainty cubes of celery, apples, 
and chicken looked as she poured them into the 


i8o 


LITTLE FOLKS 


big yellow bowl and stirred them all up with 
the tempting walnut-meats. 

As she poured them all together, holding them 
high, to enjoy watching them rain down, she 
spilled a few upon the kitchen-table. For a few 
moments she was dismayed; then, noting the 
snowy whiteness of the oilcloth cover, she has- 
tily gathered up the scattered bits and added 
them to the rest. 

The charades were now over, and luncheon 
was to be served early, as Marshall and the rest 
of the guests must not be tired. Elizabeth and 
Caroline, who could be trusted with ‘‘unspil- 
lable’’ things, made pretty little waitresses, in 
their white dresses and lace-trimmed aprons, as 
they tripped in and out among the guests, bear- 
ing the silver trays heaped high with good 
things. 

Very proudly Elizabeth brought in her salad. 
Papa, always proud of his children and anxious 
to encourage their little accomplishments, 
beamed upon her as she served him, and, slip- 
ping an arm around her, said, ^‘You made this 
salad, didn't you, daughter? Some salad, 
this ! ' ^ And he took a generous serving of the 
tempting dainty. 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING i8i 


Elizabeth, blushing rosily at so much notice, 
murmured a scarcely audible ‘‘Yes.’’ 

“It certainly is fine,” said the English gen- 
tleman, taking a generous taste. “You won’t 
need any cook long.” 

Several others echoed his words of praise, 
and Elizabeth was radiantly happy. 

Amid the merry talk and laughter one young 
man suddenly presented a pained and crimson 
face to Marshall, his mouth covered with his 
napkin, and his eyes rolling about in search of 
a near-by door. 

“What is the matter?” said Marshall anx- 
iously in a low tone. “Are you choking? 
What can I do? You’d better” — 

But the boy interrupted him. ‘ ‘ N-n-no, no ! ” 
he mumbled through the folds of his napkin, his 
face now so red as to be almost purple. 
“Ph-php-thp. ’M not thick! Got get out. 
’South me.” And, springing from his chair, 
and falling over another, he bolted from the 
room and down the stairs. 

“I’ll call Uncle,” began Marshall, but the 
boy was out of hearing. 

However, Uncle, seeing that there was trouble 
of some kind, followed the lad. 


LITTLE FOLKS 


182 

Before they returned, a pretty young girl, also 
very red and confused, and holding her napkin 
pressed over her mouth, fled abruptly from the 
room, trying to excuse herself as she ran. 
Mamma this time followed anxiously, while the 
guests tried to appear as if nothing had hap- 
pened. 

At the head of the stairs Mamma met Uncle 
returning, his shoulders shaking with merri- 
ment. 

‘‘Don’t be frightened,” he said, as he passed 
her; “it’s only 

He came out upon the veranda, still laughing. 

“Young ladies and gentlemen,” he said. “I 
beg of you not to eat any more salad. Oh, no ! 
no! It isn’t poison,” he added hastily, as the 
forks dropped to the plates with a noisy clatter, 
and more than one young lady turned pale. 

“No, don’t be frightened,” he continued; 
“you have eaten nothing worse than soap! 
Some way we can ’t imagine how, some little bits 
of soap got mixed with the salad, — ” 

“Oh, Uncle,” cried Elizabeth, springing to 
her feet, and sending one young lady’s dish of 
salad spinning across the floor, ‘ ‘ I didn ’t, — I-I- 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 183 

did not, — I never pnt any s-s-soap in my salad ! ’ ^ 
The last words ended in a wail. 

But Uncle put his arm about her, and she hid 
her face in his coat-sleeve and burst into tears. 

‘T don’t know how it happened,” Uncle re- 
peated, patting the child’s shaking shoulders 
with little comforting pats, ^‘but I’m glad to 
say it’s nothing worse than Snow Soap, ^99 and 
45/100 per cent pure,’ as I believe they adver- 
tise.” 

But a little culprit had crept in behind him, 
and, not understanding the trouble, peered into 
the dish which Uncle now held in his hand, and 
remarked in a stage-whisper, ‘T cutted my soap 
for bubbles dust like vat I ’ ’ 

‘‘What!” cried Uncle, seating himself and 
drawing the child to his knee. “Did you put 
soap into the salad, Jimmy?” 

“No, tourse we didn’t,” cried Sherburne in- 
dignantly, coming forward to his twin’s relief. 
“Tourse not we didn’t! We only cutted ’em 
into a pan 0 ’ water ! ’ ’ 

“But first on ve kitsen table,” amended 
James in a shy whisper, from Uncle’s arm, 
where he had hidden his blushing face* 


LITTLE FOLKS 


184 

When they were questioned they agreed that 
they might have left a few pieces of soap in 
some dish on ve table. 

But when the guests were gone, Elizabeth 
confessed that she had gathered up the pieces 
which she had dropped upon the oilcloth cover, 
and very probably gathered up some of the 
bits of soap with them, thus generously sharing , 
the blame, if there was any, with the little boys. 

Some of the good-natured guests, seeing how 
unhappy Elizabeth was over the mishap, in- 
sisted upon eating the salad, — with the greatest 
care, it must be admitted, — and comforted her 
by pronouncing it delicious, and treating the 
affair as the crowning joke of the afternoon. 

“In fact,’^ said one kind-hearted young lady, 
“I don’t believe many people could make as 
nice salad as that if they had to put soap in it. ’ ’ 

When Elizabeth slipped away to the kitchen 
as soon as she could, she found the two young 
people who had gotten the mouthfuls of soap, 
convulsed with laughter, having a gay time rins- 
ing and re-rinsing their mouths, and, to the 
twins’ unbounded delight, vying with one an- 
other to see who could blow the biggest bubbles 
through their lips. 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 185 

The guests all went home in gay good humor, 
insisting that it had been a delightful party, 
and ^‘so original.’’ 

And Elizabeth secretly wondered which part 
of the entertainment they considered the most 
original. 


CHAPTEE XIV 


A STOBM AND A SECRET 
“Hush! ^Tishe! 

My oriole, my glance of summer fire 
Is come at last; and ever on the watch, 

Twitched the pack-thread I had lately wound 
About the bough to help his housekeeping. 

Twitches and scouts by turns, blessing his luck. 

Yet fearing he who laid it in his way.” 

The last of June brought hot, dry weather. 
Schools were now closed, and the children free 
to go on long rambles through the woods and 
meadows any day they wished. 

Uncle often went with them, though some- 
times the larger ones were allowed to take short 
tramps by themselves. Though they enjoyed 
being trusted to go alone, they enjoyed more the 
tramps that were taken with him. 

For a week or more, however, he had not been 
able to give them an afternoon, on account of 
some mysterious business, that seemed to be 
taking a great deal of his time. 

This afternoon was to have been theirs, and 

i86 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 187 

their disappointment was keen when heavy 
clouds gathered and thunder rumbled in the dis- 
tance. The clouds gathered so rapidly, and the 
sky became such a strange greenish color, that 
Mamma and Aunty declared emphatically that 
it was too threatening for the children to leave 
home* So they wandered about the yard, rest- 
less, and uninterested in their usual pleasures. 
The air, so hot and full of electricity, made them 
strangely depressed. 

Even the home seemed lonely and unlike it- 
self. Something unusual was going on, and the 
little folks for once were not ‘4n it.^’ The 
grown folks had little time for little folks’ 
troubles or pleasures. Swift glances passed 
continually between them, suggestive liftings of 
eyebrows, and wise nods of heads. 

Marshall was ‘4n it,” for he lay often smiling 
at nothing, or asked a half-hidden question 
of Mamma or Uncle. 

After much discussion among themselves the 
children decided that the something secret was 
something pleasant. 

Mamma was unaccountably busy and spent 
much time in the attic, but she was cheerful. 
Stranger still, Aunty’s door was closed to little 


i88 


LITTLE FOLKS 


visitors. Papa and Uncle had just returned 
from a second mysterious trip away, which was 
not called a ‘‘business trip.’^ 

“What is it all about the children asked 
each other for the hundredth time, as they gath- 
ered in the big living-room, where they always 
came, perhaps feeling strength in numbers, 
when a storm was gathering. 

“I^m sure it^s something nice, BufP,^’ said 
Bob, continuing a conversation begun out of 
doors. 

“Yes,’^ answered Elizabeth thoughtfully; 

‘ ‘ and Marshall knows what it is. ’ ’ 

“Sure he does. Say, he^s looking better this 
summer, Buff. S’pose Uncle’s goin’ to cure 
him?” 

‘ ‘ Of course, ’ ’ answered Elizabeth confidently. 
“Maybe that’s it,” she suggested after a mo- 
ment’s silence. “Of course that would make 
’em all look happy.” 

“But they needn’t be whispering in corners 
about that,” argued Bob. “And they’d tell us 
that.” 

“No,” struck in Caroline, between bites of 
bread and butter that she had coaxed from 
’Merica. “And Uncle is always starting to 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 189 

say somethin^, an^ nen Mamma puts her finger 
on her lip, so,^’ looking very wise, and lifting 
her eyebrows in comical imitation of her mother. 
^^An^ nen she says, ‘Now-ow, HaP and she 
drawled the words till the others shouted with 
glee. 

Maybe they^re going to operate on Marsh, 
said Rob, after a little silence, and in a faint 
voice, for he had long nursed a secret dread 
that something of that kind might be done to 
his brother. 

^‘That wouldn^t make ’em look happy cried 
Elizabeth, horrified. 

‘T forgot that,” agreed Rob, in a relieved 
tone. 

“No,” cried Caroline, choking on a crumb, 
in her eagerness to talk; “an’ it wouldn’t make 
Uncle laugh inside his stummick, when we ask 
questions, till his shoulders jiggle!” she wound 
up triumphantly. 

“Here they come now,” cried Rob, as the 
first heavy clap of thunder rolled across the 
sky, and at the same moment Aunty and Uncle 
entered the room with the twins. 

“Aunty,” cried Caroline, plunging straight 
at the heart of the subject, “there’s a secrut. 


LITTLE FOLKS 


190 

an^ we know there is, so you needn’t puttend. 
Eob says so, too. Won’t you pul-ease tell us 
what it is?” she coaxed. 

‘^Do tell,” joined in Elizabeth, seating her- 
self upon Uncle’s knee. 

‘^When is a secret like a church-bell?” 
laughed Uncle teasingly. 

^‘When it is tolled, of course,” answered 
Eob promptly. ‘‘That’s easy!” 

“And we don’t want a secret like that,” said 
Aunty, shaking her head at Uncle. 

“So there is a -secret, then,” cried Eob 
quickly. “Ah-ha! We thought so! And 
you ’re in it, too. Come, ’f ess up ! ” 

“We’re all in it,” teased Uncle, “down to old 
Dane, and ’Merica, — most especially ’Merica!” 

The children looked from one to another, 
completely mystified. 

‘ ‘ Marsh in it, too ? ’ ’ queried Caroline directly. 

“Marshall is laughed Uncle, enjoying 
himself very much. “He is the source and 
cause of 7T.” 

“Be careful!” cautioned Aunty, shaking her 
head at him. “Be careful! Little folks are 
good guessers, and only need a hint.” 

A terrific crash of thunder stopped their 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 191 

coaxing, and they all drew close together except 
Rob, who stood by the window, proud to be 
unafraid, and exclaiming loudly at the beauty 
of the lightning and the power of the wind, 
while the girls shrank close to the grown folks 
and openly admired his courage. 

Suddenly he gave a cry, just as a crash of 
thunder pealed through the room. 

‘ ^ Oh, Uncle, the branch with the oriole ^s nest 
is down ! I saw it go P ^ 

Uncle sprang to his feet and rushed, bare- 
headed, out upon the porch. Rob followed at 
his heels, and the little girls forgot their terror 
enough to run to the windows. 

Uncle soon found that he could do little in 
such a downpour, but he dragged the branch up 
on to the porch, and threw Rob^s waterproof 
over it. 

‘‘A great many birds will be killed in this 
storm, he said, as he stood by the window with 
Rob a few minutes later, while the rain dashed 
wildly against the windows, and the trees bent 
low in the wind. ‘‘They fear nothing more 
than wind,’’ he explained. “And they have 
reason to, for the trees are their homes and 
shelter. And also they cannot fly against such 


192 


LITTLE FOLKS 


a wind, especially when their feathers are wet. 
Probably you will find some little fellows in 
trouble after this is over. Ah ! There goes the 
martin-house!’’ he cried, as the pretty little 
building crashed to the ground. ‘‘Are there 
any young in it now!” 

“Yes,” answered Rob, looking sorrowfully 
at the little wreck lying there in the raging 
storm. “There was one brood in it.” 

It was a terrific storm, but was over at last, 
leaving the yard strewn with small branches, 
twigs and ragged leaves. The children hurried 
into their waterproof clothes, eager to follow 
Uncle and see what damage had been done 
outside. 

The nest was uninjured, but only one young 
bird was found alive. Uncle carried him to 
Marshall’s room, where he hung the little nest, 
firmly fastened to the branch, in as natural a 
position as he could from the gas-fixture. A 
little later he found the mother-bird under some 
brush, where she had dragged herself, with one 
wing broken. After carefully setting her wing, 
he put her in the nest with the one remaining 
baby, but she continually tried to scramble out ; 
and Uncle, fearing that she would injure her 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 193 

wing, fastened a dark shawl over the nest, and 
then she settled quietly down for the night. 

Then, with rubber boots well drawn up, the 
children, with Uncle leading, tramped gayly 
about the yard and garden. 

Father Wren greeted them with a shrill burst 
of music from the top of his house, where he was 
busily dressing his feathers, as if nothing had 
happened. Plump Papa Bluebird looked quite 
unhappy about it all, curled up in a little wet 
ball under the eaves, near his bungalow. But 
when the children approached he shook a shower 
of silvery drops at them, and, with a cross, 
^^Peep ! Peep flew to a tree and began look- 
ing for his dinner, none the worse for the storm. 

Cock-Robin and Madame, looking a little thin- 
ner after the hard spring work, hopped nimbly 
about the la^vn, now and then feeding a fat, 
speckled-vested baby, almost as big as his par- 
ents, who was making a glutton of himself over 
the worms the storm had brought forth. 
Madam Nuthatch looked out from her front 
door quite undisturbed by the weather, her lit- 
tle family now big enough to take care of them- 
selves. 

But the Martin family had not fared so well. 


194 


LITTLE FOLKS 


The children found two yonng ones in the gar- 
den, quite feathered out, having been almost 
ready to leave the nest, but now nearly drowned, 
their feathers plastered to their small bodies. 
The children put them in a box filled with pieces 
of soft flannel, and left them near the stove in 
the kitchen. In a remarkably short time they 
were dry and lively. 

Eob and Elizabeth hunted the entire neigh- 
borhood over for injured birds, and finally suc- 
ceeded in finding a baby blue jay, who had 
fallen from his nest, quite unhurt, but squawl- 
ing loudly for his mamma. Uncle bade them 
carry him back and watch for the parent-birds, 
guarding him until they came. He made such 
a racket that they had not long to wait until 
the mother came and coaxed him under a bush. 

‘‘Well, Marshall,’’ said Uncle, when they had 
gathered in his room that evening, “you will 
have your hands full to get all these young- 
sters able to fly and take care of themselves, 
before,” — 

“Sh! Sh! Sh!” cried Mamma, and Uncle 
clapped his hands over his mouth, amidst the 
shouts of the children. 

“You’ll have to sew your mouth up yet,” 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 195 

advised Marshall ; and the children immediately 
began their teasing where they had left off, but 
discovered nothing. 

‘‘You^re a sham, Uncle cried Elizabeth, at 
last. ‘T believe you just pretend to almost let 
Out the secret. YouM be the last one to tell it. 

Have patience, ^ ’laughed Marshall. ’Twill 

only be a secret a little longer ! ’ ’ 

^^Oh, you can talk!” cried Rob impatiently, 
tossing a pillow at his brother, with whom he 
now dared to take such liberties. ^^You know 
all about it.” 

‘‘Perhaps,” suggested Uncle, drawing a long 
face, “we are going to send you all to a summer 
school. How would you like that!” 

“0 — 0 — 0 — ” they all groaned in a chorus. 
“O— 

“You wouldn’t, would you!” pleaded Car- 
oline in her sweetest voice. 

“Oh, gee!” groaned Rob. 

“I should think you would all know better 
than that,’Maughed Marshall, remembering the 
books taken out of his hands on several oc- 
casions by Uncle. “He’d be more likely to take 
you out of school in the winter, than to put you 
in in summer,” he declared confidently. 


LITTLE FOLKS 


196 

The next day was a busy one. The oriole 
had to be put in a cage, for she was very wild. 
Uncle hung the nest, with the lonely baby in 
it, out in the elm tree, as nearly as possible 
where the little mother had built it. Soon the 
male oriole, gorgeous in his freshly washed suit 
of black and orange, appeared, and flew cau- 
tiously about, giving anxious cries at short in- 
tervals. Suddenly approaching the nest, and 
as suddenly darting away again, as if some 
frightful ogre, instead of his own unhappy little 
'Son, looked out at him. Before noon, however, 
the children saw him bring to the crying baby 
a fine fat bug, and then Uncle felt satisfied that 
he would take care of the little unmothered one 
until it could care for itself, which would not 
be long. As they watched him flying back and 
forth, his brilliant orange feathers flashing in 
the sun. Uncle pointed out to them the differ- 
ence in his coloring and that of the female, who 
is far duller and less noticeable. 

‘‘Her pretty colors are all mixed up with 
black and gray, until she’s only olive-brown,” 
Elizabeth said. 

“Another case of ‘protective coloration’ in 
the little woods people,” said Uncle. “You’d 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 197 

better learn those words, little folks. They 
arenh so hard.’^ 

seems to me,’’ remarked Rob, ‘‘that the 
‘little wood people,’ as you call them, spend 
most of their lives trying to escape from ene- 
mies.” 

‘ ‘ That is very true, ’ ’ said Uncle. “Yet they 
do seem to find lots of chance to sing, and 
frolic in the sunshine, as if bent upon nothing 
but pleasure. Among their enemies I believe 
that, until lately, man was the one they dreaded 
most, and with good reason. But, thanks to 
some good men, their lives are easier now.” 

All the morning the children were kept busy 
trotting about, providing food for the two little 
martins, the oriole, and the little kinglet, who 
was still with them. Rob and Uncle went to 
work at once repairing the “martin flats,” the 
parent-birds continually flying about the bare 
pole and their heads, calling piteously for their 
little ones. In less than an hour after the house 
was back in its old place, the parents were feed- 
ing the little birds as if nothing had happened. 

The first of July, a week after the storm, the 
children gathered in Marshall’s room at five 
o’clock in the afternoon. To their surprise, 


198 LITTLE FOLKS 

their parents and Aunty and Uncle were there 
before them. 

‘^WhaUs upU’ cried Rob, suspecting some- 
thing at once. 

‘‘You smell a mouse, eh,’’ laughed Uncle, his 
eyes dancing with fun and pleasure. “Guess 
whaUs up.^^ 

“A picnic,’^ cried Caroline, dancing up and 
down. 

“A party, cried Elizabeth. 

‘ ‘ Oh, better than that ! ’ ^ cried Uncle. ‘ ‘ Much 
better ! ^ ’ 

“Better than twenty, — no, thirty; yes, thirty 
picnics,” cried Marshall, his pale face now 
flushed with pleasure and excitement. And he 
winked wisely at Uncle. 

•‘What could be that!” said Elizabeth scorn- 
fully. “You couldn’t have such a thing all at 
once ! ’ ’ And the grown folks laughed merrily. 

“It is, though!” cried Marshall. “It really 
is more than thirty picnics 

The children, completely puzzled, looked from 
one to another, seeking the answer ; then at the 
smiling grown folks, as if expecting to read the 
secret in their laughing faces. 

“It’s a camp!'^ cried Marshall at last, fairly 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 199 

shouting the words, in his eagerness to tell the 
wonderful news. tents! In the woods! 

Then confusion reigned. Papa, with his hands 
over his ears, retreated to his study. Aunty 
ran laughing away to finish some packing. But 
Uncle remained, enjoying the excitement quite 
as much as the youngsters did. 

Mamma, in her wisdom gained of years of ex- 
perience with little folks, had refused to prepare 
for a six weeks’ camp with six youngsters 
^‘helping” her. So the children had not been 
told anything until all preparations were nearly 
completed. Marshall alone was allowed the 
pleasure of anticipation. 

Uncle and Papa, on their mysterious trips 
away, had pitched the tents in a beautiful little 
grove on the banks of a babbling trout-stream. 
They chose a place far away from any fashion- 
able summer-resorts, in the northern part of the 
state. The camp now only awaited its occu- 
pants to be complete. 

^^But what about Marshall” questioned the 
children, almost unable to believe in so much 
good fortune. 

^Tt is chiefly for his benefit that we are go- 
ing,” explained Uncle. ^‘You have all seen 


200 TRAMPING AND CAMPING 


how much fresh air has done for him, even here, 
so near the dirty city. Now we will give him 
a few weeks of pure air and pine-woods scents 
to breathe night and day, and soon you will see 
your brother strong and well again. 

What shall we do with all these birds? was 
their next question. 

Uncle has arranged for all that, just as he 
has for everything else,’’ laughed Marshall. 

‘‘You little folks will take care of the birds,” 
answered Uncle. “We shall turn little King 
loose this fall, up in his native woods, where he 
will be better off than he is down here. I shall 
put him in a cage, and you youngsters must 
take care of him.” 

It was with happy hearts and radiant faces 
that the children trooped to bed that night, to 
dream of birds and beasts and tents and In- 
dians. 


1 


• 

’ .1 


V ^ r 



' • • , i 

1 

f: 

w' ' • , ' 
' ; 

• f 


>■ . • 

• 'i ■ * ' 

' ' '/ ’ ; 

V . ■ . 

' ‘ ' i 

t 

’ 1’ ' 

1 v»' ‘ 

1 

9 

< ; 1 

' ( ■ ( 

1 j 

\ 

1 ) K 

o / 

• 

» 

1 


I • 

I 

. / •■ ■ 
^ /. 




I 


PAET II 

LITTLE FOLKS CAMPING 



i ;■< 




I" , , . ' > .!■ 

^ --/'l ! \ ' 




»’ f ^ 


* f « ^ 

* ■ r ' 






kM'- 


. ^■ 

■ I 


V ■ V \ 




jiMS. r>.v : 



:ii '•:• ;■.■ ■:■•*,<; 




.‘ , ‘ *'• •'f*s*Avr.> W.A 



. •■»' 


' 1 ■^' 
• A r . . . 


\ . 


' V 'v”V' 



1 ’• ■''' ••* V'.' » ■' •' f -■ IW ^ 

■ y. , J‘-' >, . •'• i '■ ...• • •■^'v 



^ C \.v*’ , 

»v ■ . • 




> \ 

< ’ I 


• *■ 

■ / 




< > t 

\. 


\'i 




. ,'1 * ’'i-.* ■ ' 


A S 


. f' . 


V ''ll' 


^WJ- ... ,Vv>'.> .. 

••j' v*.V ■ ' 





":ls 


« I’ 


‘f>'' ' >1 v , ^ ; ** *... 

t-;^ 5 lP''''li;i>.'''':V',. 


\. 


.w, 

. . ,V 



I 


i • 

• ,' 


i 




l/ii' O' ' 

• - * ^ ^ •» 


('v- 
w. ,v ' . 

U-V . 

s' ?iV-,> v.'rr 


■ '.1 


W' , «•' # ^ ■• '■' ' rii' 

,.?« : ' f . fV?^*yK 


'it'.v V' 'vi: -[''J 


W. , 

4' 

*. ‘iS V ' • 


SviJs^L .. 


I . ''-\. 







» v *^3 u\ 

•./ .'. A< 


' '•mV-v’A/i-’'. ' •.wW‘ 5 j 


ij iM 

!fr. ,;.V * ■ 

•^^v ,., 






' V 



V V.: A 


^'•Ao L ■ . V/ • ’ . 


t ■ V'* , ''■' ' ’ . 

'/■'>. >! f- . .\' 




M >1 


«< < 





J.i 


l?/W' 


.' v*. 


r I ** 


•| 4 ., 






•v : 1 









It ''I - .■ 


'*-ti 


I t 




'iV 


ixif 


« Iv 


« < 




• ■ ’ it * A'v/r ‘ ■ '' ’ 



i') 


■ i 

' V) 






•■'/All r 


f"-:. 


■y 




iVY'-' 


. , » . I .' 1 


I < " 

• \i. 


/ . 

y.' ^'. 


» 

I » '* 


y ii 


4 ' ,. » < 'i 1 ‘- 1 'tut ' , 4 1 ' i;' 

‘ /. -. 4 ^ f t '.; ■ . ;. * ' 

■".;^ ;/' ^ 'J* • .'ni- •■■''' • • ■ 


•■ S?i®V ■ ' ' '■'■ C" ;■"' v‘- %%»' A' •'" ■■ ^ 1 

^ JW- ■• w V.? ' . ,v' >{f ■/> jfi '' V 

Mi SwU'lH 



t I 


'■A . 




' • A 


uy 


-MJtt) (r •' 


Si;;:;':':.- 

-B' v;rv. . , ■ •'!•’■.■.: y .-»AliSS#« 


V'. ! Ca • • ' .' 




4 'v \ ’! 

■ *f •' I J s' ' ‘ J 

iiv i .. . ' >. I 








CHAPTEE XV 


CAMP LIFE 

“Leave the toiling and the stir of things, 
The rush of hurrying feet, 

And seek the downy meadows 
With the violets scented sweet. 

» * * * » 

To where the wild is calling, 

Calling to your heart to-day.” 


“He has a coat of cinnamon brown, 

The brightest on his head and crown; 

A very low-cut vest of white. 

That shines like satin in the light; 

And on his breast a hundred spots. 

As if he wore a veil of dots.” 

When the children drove into camp a few 
days later, after a dusty railway journey and a 
five-mile drive, they found everything ready 
to receive them. 

Night was coming on. The whip-poor-wills 
were calling in the shadowy forest, and the frogs 
were singing their night songs in the marshes. 
The children ’s eyes were heavy with drowsiness, 
but the glorious flag floating from the top of the 


203 


204 


LITTLE FOLKS 


largest tent drew from them one rousing cheer. 
But they were too weary for further investiga- 
tions that night. The row of snowy beds, dain- 
tily draped in white mosquito net, appealed to 
them more than anything else, and they quickly 
tumbled into them, where they lay for almost 
two minutes, listening to the strange wood- 
noises, before they drifted into dreamland. 

The next morning they were early awakened 
by the joyous caroling of the birds. A wren, 
every feather aquiver with the joy of life, was 
filling the tent with his welcome, poured forth 
from a branch near the entrance. Not far away 
a song-sparrow thrilled them with his music. 
Far away in the woods the exquisite song of 
the wood-thrush called them more effectively 
than Mamma or ^Merica had ever done. 

Scrambling into their clothes, the older chil- 
dren raced off through the woods, now here, 
now there, calling bits of news to one another, 
whistling and shouting, till the squirrels scamp- 
ered to the tip-top of the trees and stayed there. 
And the birds hid themselves and peeped out in 
a fright from their hiding-places, little dream- 
ing what good friends of theirs these noisy in- 
truders were. 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 205 

Before breakfast they had explored the 
greater part of ‘‘their woods as they called 
the pretty little grove in which their camp was 
pitched. 

The great forest trees stood as they had stood 
when the Indians roamed among them. Only 
the undergrowth had been cut away, and in 
many places grass grew beneath the trees, while 
in others a thick mat of dead leaves or pine- 
needles carpeted the ground. Birds flew about, 
or scuttled under the bushes or dead leaves, and 
many of them, never having been disturbed by 
man, showed little fear of our friends. 

“Whoo — 00 — 000 — 00!’^’ Mamma’s familiar 
call echoed through the woods at seven o’clock, 
answered by calls and whistles in all directions, 
and turned the children’s foot-steps back toward 
camp and breakfast. 

“Oh, Uncle, we counted ten kinds of birds be- 
tween five o’clock and seven!” cried Elizabeth, 
hanging on his arm as they answered the call. 

“And you would have seen more, perhaps, if 
you hadn’t made such a racket,” laughed Uncle. 

“Yes,” said Rob, joining them in time to hear 
his sister’s remark, “but that included spar- 
rows, Buff.” 


2o6 


LITTLE FOLKS 


‘‘Can yon name and describe them?’’ asked 
Uncle, turning to Elizabeth, as he seated him- 
self at the table, and ignoring Eob’s scornful 
remark. 

“Some of them,’’ she answered. “We saw 
a cedar waxwing. He has a nest over there, 
not far from our tent,” she continued, half 
rising, and waving her cup about, baptizing Eob 
with her “cambric tea.” “He is a sort of a 
greenish brown all over his back and wings, 
except for some little red spots on his wings 
that look like little red drops of blood. There 
is a king-bird’s nest in that big cedar tree over 
there, too,” leaning far back on two legs of her 
chair, to point with her teaspoon, and dripping 
tea down the back of Uncle’s neck in her ex- 
citement. 

“Dear, dear, where are your manners?” 
gasped Mamma under her breath, while Uncle 
gave her a satisfied smile. 

“And, oh. Uncle, the little baby kings,” she 
continued, — 

“Princes,” corrected Aunty, laughing. “Be 
careful, Butf y ; you ’ll turn over the table ! ’ ’ 

“Princes, then,” Elizabeth corrected her- 
self, bringing her chair down on four legs. 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 207 

‘ ^ They look like their papa already, at least one 
did. He was on the edge of the nest, and he 
was black, and had a white band on the end of 
his tail already. I conldnT see any red spot on 
his head. But the little one had a teenty, tinty 
crest. We saw a yellow warbler, a wood- 
thrush, and a scarlet tanager,’^ she continued, 
growing breathless in her eagerness to tell. 
‘‘That’s five,” — 

“I can tell about the tanger/* cried Caroline, 
pounding the table with the handle of her knife, 
to gain attention. “He’s all red ’cept his coat- 
sleeves and tail, an’ they’re black!” 

“Brief, but correct,” laughed Uncle. 

“The yellow bird was yellow,” piped up 
James having satisfied a ravenous appetite 
enough to admit of conversation. 

“But the wood-thrush,” said Elizabeth, with 
a dreamy look in her pretty brown eyes. “It 
was singing so sweetly! I never heard any- 
thing so lovely!” 

“You must hear the other thrushes,” cried 
Uncle, always enthusiastic about these beautiful 
singers, his favorite birds. “Some think the 
veery, or Wilson’s thrush, the finest singer. 
Others prefer the song of the hermit. They are 


2o8 


LITTLE FOLKS 


all so beautiful, it is hard to compare them. I 
prefer to enjoy each one as I hear it. Perhaps 
one’s choice depends upon the humor one is in.” 

There is something about them,” Elizabeth 
continued diffidently, ^That makes you sort of 
want to be good. I should think if a wicked man 
should hear one just as he started to do some 
wicked thing, that — that he would stop, just as 
if, as if — ” and she dropped her eyes shyly — 
‘‘he heard his mother’s voice, or — or even 
God’s, telling him not to.” 

There was silence for a moment, and then 
Uncle said: “Yes, there is a certain charm 
about their music that seems to bring pure 
thoughts and high desires. You must learn to 
know the thrushes by sight as well as by their 
song.” 

‘ ‘ All thrushes look alike to me, ’ ’ laughed Rob, 
parodying a familiar street-song. 

“Yes,” agreed Uncle, “I suppose they do. 
We might carelessly describe the four varieties 
as brown with a tinge of green above, and whit- 
ish below, marked with black. They are differ- 
ent, however, as you will see. The black spots 
upon the wood-thrush are more nearly round 
than the others, and are on the sides as well as 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 209 

on the breast and belly. The veery is the least 
plainly marked of them all, and is the brightest 
in color. The hermit’s spots are arrow-shaped 
and run together like a chain. The olive-backed 
is much like the hermit’s but we find no differ- 
ence in the coloring of his back and tail. The 
hermit’s back is olive and his tail is a decided 
brown. There, can you remember all that! 
Not right away, I think, but little by little you 
will learn to know them apart.” 

The children shook their heads doubtfully, 
and Rob said, ^T’m glad I don’t have to know 
their spots to hear ’em sing.” 

‘‘That was five,” continued Elizabeth, be- 
ginning again where she had been interrupted, 
for Elizabeth could never be turned aside from 
her purpose. “Then there was a wren and a 
song-sparrow. And by the river we saw a big 
blue-and-gray bird with a big crest, sitting on a 
branch that hung out.” 

“A kingfisher,” said Uncle. 

‘ ‘ Oh, was it ! Oh, how I wish that I had seen 
it better!” 

“And that’s six,” cried Caroline, counting 
on her fingers. 

“And then,” said Rob, bound to tease, “you 


210 


LITTLE FOLKS 


forget the sparrows, dozens of ’em, and the 
crow without any tail in the corn-field. ’ ’ 

‘^Well, they count, don’t they?” Elizabeth ap- 
pealed to her uncle. 

‘Tndeed, they do,” he said, smiling, and push- 
ing his chair back from the table. ‘‘ You’ll see 
that they all count when we compare notes in 
the fall. And now all of you who wish may 
go with me for a long quiet walk, and see what 
we can learn about our new ‘ stamping- 
ground.’ ” 

Each child sprang eagerly to his feet, Eliza- 
beth in such a hurry that she turned over her 
chair with a bang. “Here! Here!” cried 
Papa. “Don’t turn over the big tent, Eliza- 
beth. You’ve turned over about everything 
else this morning.” But Elizabeth was too 
happy to be offended, and raced off with the 
rest to prepare for the walk. 

Papa had bought Marshall a wheel-chair, 
though the boy could now walk short distances 
and was gaining every day. But in his chair 
he could join the children on this exploring 
tramp, using it in the road-way, and taking 
short w^alks afoot in the woods. 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 21 1 


They followed a winding road at first, that led 
them past meadows of promise, and through 
tempting looking groves full of birds. And 
often, by doubtful-looking bridges, they crossed 
the tiny stream, by courtesy called a river. 

Marshall had not joined them in their subur- 
ban tramps at home, and now his pale cheeks 
glowed with pleasure at taking part in the fun 
instead of waiting at home to hear about it 
second-hand. 

Uncle pulled away the reeds and unripe cat- 
tails as they skirted the marsh, showing them 
a red-winged blackbird’s nest, and the tiny 
globular home of a marsh wren, each gentle 
breeze giving the babies a swing as it passed. 
And, wading in among the rushes, the children 
were astonished to see the number of tiny 
marsh- wrens that flew up in a fright when dis- 
turbed. 

With the aid of his field-glass, Marshall him- 
self discovered a hawk’s nest, high up in a pine 
tree, some distance away. 

The cries of a baby bird in the grass by the 
roadside next drew their attention. Drawing 
slowly near, they saw a large bird alight in front 


212 


LITTLE FOLKS 


of another one, not much smaller than himself, 
hut evidently an infant. The parent bird was 
very handsome, with wings, back, and tail of 
various shades of brown. A red spot glowed 
on his crown, and the beautiful golden lining of 
his wings showed as he stood erect to feed the 
baby. The snowy patch on his back proclaimed 
him a flicker. 

^‘Why, I should think that baby was big 
enough to feed himself,’^ cried Elizabeth. 

But the father-bird evidently did not think so, 
for he pushed his beak far down the little one^s 
throat, and then, with a peculiar retching mo- 
tion, discharged the food from his own into the 
baby^s mouth, much to the girls’ disgust. 

‘ ^ That is a well-known bird in America, ’ ’ said 
Uncle, ^‘but he has so many names that it is 
sometimes confusing. Some say that he is 
called by as many as thirty different names; 
among them the most common are ‘high-holer’ 
or ‘holder,’ ‘yellow hammer,’ and ‘golden- 
winged woodpecker.’ There is a little poem 
about him that I wish you to learn, as it will 
teach you much about him. ’ ’ And as they wan- 
dered along the pleasant country road, he re- 
peated to them “The Flicker’s Letter.” 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 213 

^‘People : 

“Tell me where you scare up 
Names for me like ‘flicker,’ ‘yarup,’ 

‘High-hole,’ ‘yucker,’ ‘yellow hammer.’ 

None of these are in my grammar, — 

‘Pique bods jaune,’ — woodpecker yellow, — 

So the Creoles name a fellow. 

Others call me ‘golden wings,’ 

‘Clape,’ and twenty other things 
That I never half remember 
Any summer till September. 

“Many names and frequent mention, 

Show that I receive attention. 

And the honor that is due me; 

But if you would interview me 
Call me any name you please. 

I’m at home among the trees. 

Yet I never cease my labors 
To receive my earnest neighbors. 

And ’twill be your best enjoyment 
Just to view me at employment. 

* * » * 

“I’m the friend of every sower. 

Useful to the orchard-grower. 

Helping many a plant and tree 
Prom its enemies to free, — 

They are always food for me. 

“And I like dessert in reason. 

Just a bit of fruit in season; 

But my delicacy is ants. 

Stump or hill inhabitants; 

Thrusting in my sticky tongue, 

So I take them, old or young. 

* * * * 


214 


LITTLE FOLKS 


‘^Surely we have found the best 
Place wherein to make our nest; 

Tunnel bored within a tree, 

Smooth and clean as it can be, 

Smallest at the door. 

Curving wider toward the floor. 

Every year we make a new one. 

Freshly bore another true one; 

Other birds, you understand. 

Use our old ones second-hand, — 

Occupying free of rent. 

They are very well content. 

“To my wife I quite defer, 

I am most polite to her. 

Bowing while I say, ^Ker-cherT 
Eggs we number five to nine, 

Pearly white with finish fine. 

On our nest we sit by turns, 

So each one a living earns; 

Though I think I sit the better, 

When she wishes to, I let her 

Flicker.^^ 

The poem pleased the children, and while they 
were attempting to quote bits of it, Elizabeth 
slipped away from the others and wandered a 
little way back into the woods, eager to make 
some interesting discovery herself. She soon 
returned with sparkling eyes, and in her hands 
a nest, which plainly showed the wear and tear 
of several seasons. 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 215 

‘‘It’s an old one!” she explained breath- 
lessly, as soon as she came within hearing of 
the little group. “And it’s so funny! I’m 
quite sure it’s an old one, Uncle, or I wouldn’t 
have taken it.” 

“Yes,” agreed Uncle, taking the nest in his 
hands, “you have found a remarkable nest. It 
was built by a yellow warbler. Do you see, over 
there in that pasture, those birds following the 
cows? Yes? Take your glasses and you will 
see one or two birds taking a free ride on the 
cows ’ backs. ’ ’ 

“Why, Uncle,” exclaimed Elizabeth, “surely 
they didn’t make this little nest! They are so 
big!” 

“Is the birds tired. Uncle? Is that why they 
ride on the cows’ backs?” asked James. 

When the laughter and teasing of the elder 
brothers had ceased. Uncle explained. “No, 
dear,” he said, “the birds are picking the in- 
sects oil the cows ’ backs. Will you describe the 
birds, Rob?” 

“Why, they’re not much to describe,” said 
Rob, glancing at them somewhat carelessly. 
“They’re just large, dark-colored birds, black, 
I believe.” 


2i6 


LITTLE FOLKS 


‘Ts that all yon girls seeT’ asked Uncle, 
turning to them. 

Elizabeth studied the birds carefully with her 
glass for a moment, then answered slowly and 
exactly: ‘‘They have brown heads and necks, 
and black wings and bodies and tails. They 
look something like blackbirds. ^ ’ 

“They belong to the blackbird family,^’ said 
Uncle, pleased with her accurate description, 
“but they get their names from their habit of 
following the cows, and are called cowbirds. 
They seem to be quite a relief to the cows, but 
we should be glad to be rid of them all, for they 
are a great nuisance. They never choose 
mates, as other birds do, build nests, and raise 
a family. Instead of that, the female slips 
around, watching her chance to lay her eggs in 
smaller birds’ nests. When the little cowbird 
is hatched, he is larger and stronger than his 
little foster brothers, and he either gets the 
lion’s share of the food, and the other babies 
in the nest starve, or else, in his frantic efforts 
to get the food which the little foster mother is 
trying to feed to the others, he crushes the life 
out of the smaller birds. The little yellow 
warbler is the only bird we know of, that is 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 217 

wise enough to outwit the cowbird. When the 
cowbird chooses the warbler’s nest, as she fre- 
quently does, for her orphan asylum, little Mrs. 
Warbler sometimes, as in this case, weaves a 
top over the nest, thus enclosing the cowbird ’s 
egg, and sometimes some of her own as well, 
and leaves them to spoil. Then she patiently 
proceeds to lay more eggs in the top compart- 
ment. Sometimes, as you see has been done 
here, the cowbird returns and again lays an 
egg, this time in the second story of the nest. 
And the little warbler, if not discouraged, re- 
peats her little trick. 

^ ‘ In this case, which is very unusual, you may 
see the cowbird returned three times, and until 
the nest reached its fourth story the mother 
warbler was unable to raise her little family in 
peace. And it may be that, even after all her 
trouble, she raised a little cowbird nuisance in- 
stead of her own pretty babies. ” While he was 
speaking, with his knife he cut a small opening 
in the side of the nest, through which the chil- 
dren could see the discarded eggs. 

As they were returning home, James and 
Sherburne, running ahead, discovered not far 
from their camp, a little nest, built low in a 


2i8 


LITTLE FOLKS 


bush. They were much excited over their dis- 
covery, and came racing back to call Uncle 
quickly to the spot. The nest was built so low 
that they could see the tiny mottled eggs with- 
out even standing on tiptoe. 

^Tt is a field-sparrow’s nest,” said Uncle, 
when he had seen it. am glad it is so near 
home, for we can soon be watching the parents 
feed the babies, and later see them teaching the 
little ones to fiy. ’ ’ 

The twins were so delighted, and felt so im- 
portant over their discovery, that they raced 
home ahead of the others, almost bursting with 
eagerness to pour the wonderful news into the 
ears of sympathetic mammas. 

Uncle said that this nest was to be their very 
own charge, and they were to report to him 
daily all that happened in and about it. 

When they reached the camp, after their long 
walk, they found America frying the trout 
which Papa had taken from the stream only a 
few hours before. The long table of pine 
boards, covered with a snowy oilcloth, stood 
under the trees, a great bunch of field-lilies and 
ferns, which Mamma and Aunty had found time 
to gather, at each end. 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 219 

hungry!’^ announced Marshall, sniffing 
the breeze, as the smell of the sizzling trout met 
his nostrils. 

‘T am, too!’’ cried Rob, as he pushed Mar- 
shall’s chair up to the table. 

‘‘'Such a condition is chronic with you,” 
laughed Uncle to Rob, but he exchanged a satis- 
fied and very tender smile with Mamma, as 
Marshall began eating his trout with quite the 
appetite of a normal, hungry boy. 


CHAPTER XVI 


A VISIT TO THE LAKE 

“Across the lonely beach we flit, 

One little sandpiper and I. 

As fast I gather bit by bit, 

The scattered drift-wood, bleached and dry. 

The wild wind raves. 

The tide runs high. 

As up and down the beach we flit. 

One little sandpiper and I.” 

A FEW days after their arrival at camp, the 
children tramped over to the lake for a bath, 
Uncle and Annty accompanying them. Aunty 
was there to look after the twins, and Uncle for 
the sake of a bath in the cool, clear water, and, 
perhaps, partly for the romp he knew he would 
have with the youngsters. 

The lake was only half a mile away from the 
camp, and they had it all to themselves, for none 
of the neighboring farm folk ever came there to 
bathe. 

The children shouted when, coming out from 
a tangle of berry-bushes and wild-grape vines. 


220 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 221 


they unexpectedly found themselves looking out 
upon a shining expanse of water, sparkling so 
quietly in the sunshine. A few gulls were skim- 
ming here and there, their snowy breasts touch- 
ing the water now and then in a light caress as 
they dipped and darted about. A kingfisher 
flew sullenly away from his watch-tower, a 
half-hidden snag near the shore, sounding his 
noisy, rattling call as he went, plainly dis- 
gusted with these unusual visitors who were 
spoiling his plans. 

How much fun it all suggested to these happy 
children. They couldn T get into the water too 
quickly. Amid much noisy laughter and chat- 
ter, the merry crowd soon rigged up two small 
dressing-tents out of umbrellas and shawls, and, 
in a shorter time than they ever undressed in at 
night, they were splashing about in the clear, 
cool water. 

The bed of the lake was soft sand, and the 
older children could swim out for a hundred 
yards before getting beyond their depth. The 
twins were content to splatter about near the 
shore, their plump bodies, scantily covered by 
their short bathing- suits, shining like marble in 
the sunshine. 


222 


LITTLE FOLKS 


‘ ^ Too white ! Too white ! ’ ’ cried Uncle, dash- 
ing the water over their dimpled shoulders. 
^Tdl make these little bodies brown as the sand 
before we go home in the fall.’’ 

‘ ‘ Hi ! Uncle ! ’ ’ Eob ’s voice interrupted, from 
far out in the lake, as he stopped short in an 
etfort to ‘‘duck” Elizabeth, who had followed 
at his heels, and pointed to a gull that flashed 
past him, almost brushing his sleek, wet pate 
with her wings. “Hey, Uncle, what was that 
bird with those dandy white wings ? Gen ! But 
they’re pretty!” 

“A herring gull,” answered Uncle promptly. 
“And those ‘dandy white wings’ make the poor 
bird a great deal of trouble. It is for those very 
wings, which ladies use for hat trimmings,” 
— and, oh, the scorn he put into the words, — * 
“that a great number of gulls are killed. No- 
tice their graceful flight. There are not many of 
them on these small lakes,” he continued, swim- 
ming out to a more comfortable speaking-dis- 
tance, “but they are very numerous on Lake 
Michigan. However, you may find a few nests 
about here, among the rocks, or in those little 
tufts of grass across the lake there.” 

And, as Elizabeth turned to look in the direc- 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 223 

tion in which he had pointed, she suddenly felt 
herself lifted bodily out of the water, and then 
ducked to the very bottom of the lake. She 
came up spluttering and gasping, but laughing 
good-naturedly. And as Rob shouted with de- 
light at the joke on her. Uncle slipped up behind 
him, and before he had time to so much as grasp 
his nose, he too went under. Then how they did 
pounce upon Uncle, determined to throw him 
dowm. He soon led them back into shallow 
water, where the little ones joined them, and 
he had much ado to keep his foating against 
such determined little enemies. Breathless at 
last, they lay basking in the sun-warmed water, 
their bodies browning in the warm sunshine. 

Up and down the beach wee sandpipers were 
running about, very little alarmed at these 
noisy visitors. 

‘Tt seems a pity to kill such wee, harmless 
little fellows, doesn’t it?” said Uncle, calling 
the children’s attention to them. 

‘‘What do they kill them for?” cried Eliza- 
beth amazed. 

“To eat, of course, silly,” said Rob impor- 
tantly. 

“Why, I’d ’most as soon eat a baby,” cried 


LITTLE FOLKS 


224 

Caroline; ‘^they’re so little and so cunning!” 

'^That little fellow is the spotted sandpiper,” 
said Uncle, pointing to a plump little bird, step- 
ping daintily along the sand, his ‘‘white vest” 
thickly marked with round black spots. “In 
the winter,” continued Uncle, “you wouldn^t 
know him, for he changes his vest for one of 
pure white.” 

“Is he the one that the poem, ‘The Sand- 
piper,^ is written about?” asked Elizabeth, 
proud to air her knowledge, especially so soon 
after Eob’s saucy answer to her a moment be- 
fore. 

“Yes,” answered Uncle. “Perhaps you can 
recite it for them.” 

And while she was reciting the well-known 
poem by Celia Thaxter, with considerable help 
from Aunty, the twins waded out of the water, 
and trotted up the beach, bent upon some little 
business of their own. After going some dis- 
tance, they evidently discovered that their 
chubby feet were plastered with sand, for, seat- 
ing themselves upon some little hillocks of 
grass, each took a plump foot in his hand, and, 
after seriously looking it over, proceeded to 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 225 

scrub it vigorously with tufts of grass. Satis- 
fied at last with the condition of their little pink 
toes, they rose to go. 

But something was wrong with James! 
Turning and twisting, this way and that, plainly 
trying in every way he knew to see the seat of 
his small blue trunks, he called loudly for his 
twin, who had started to run along the beach 
ahead of him. At the call Sherburne came run- 
ning back and began curiously turning his cousin 
about, and examining the ground where he had 
been sitting. Suddenly throwing himself down 
in an unhappy little heap upon the ground, 
James set up a wail that speedily brought Uncle 
and Aunty to the spot. 

‘^What is the matter U’ cried Aunty, quite 
breathless with running, and, sitting down upon 
the sand, she gathered her little nephew into 
her arms. 

‘‘DonT touch me!’’ cried the little fellow, 
wriggling away from her. can’t be hugged ! 
I’m all covered wif scwambled eggs! My new 
bavin’ suit is all spoiled!” 

‘‘Scrambled eggs!” cried Aunty and Uncle 
in duet. “What on earth do you mean?” 


226 


LITTLE FOLKS 


Somebody lefted their lunch/’ explained 
Sherburne gravely. ‘‘And Jimmie satted in 
it.” 

For a moment Aunty and Uncle stared at one 
another in questioning wonder; then Uncle 
turned the little body about, all dripping with 
yolks of eggs. Then, with a shout, he sat flat 
down upon the sand and roared, while the little 
ones stared gravely at him, James blinking 
away the tears. 

“What is it?” asked Aunty, smiling faintly, 
not in the least understanding. 

“He tried to help little Mother Sandpiper 
hatch her eggs, by sitting upon them,” ex- 
plained Uncle. And he showed her the bits of 
shell sticking to Jimmie ’s trunks. ‘ ‘ And, ’ ’ still 
laughing, “he only succeeded in getting some 
spots.” Then, taking the still sobbing child in 
his arms, he carried him back into the lake, 
where he quickly washed away all stains of the 
accident. 

“Oh, did I kill all ve little baby birds?” cried 
Jimmie, as they came out of the water, his 
lip beginning to quiver again. “ Won ’t ve muv- 
ver piper bird lay any babies at all ? ” 

“Oh, yes, yes,” said Uncle comfortingly, as 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 227 

they started back toward the other children. 

There were no baby birds in the eggs yet, I 
think. So you didn’t kill any. And Mother 
Sandpiper will most likely lay some more eggs 
and forget all about these. I think it will only 
make her a little more trouble. And perhaps 
she will choose a better place next time, where 
folks won’t be likely to sit down upon them.” 

On the way home they followed the shore of 
the lake, and found it bordered by wild-straw- 
berry vines, laden with small, sweet berries. 
The boys filled their big straw hats, and the 
girls lined their aprons with leaves and filled 
them with the fruit. And the stains on their 
lips told that many went home in their stom- 
achs. 

Rob ran eagerly ahead of the others, who 
wandered lazily along, eating and picking. 
When about half-way home his whistle was 
heard, and his eager, excited voice calling, ^^Hi! 
Uncle, come here and see what I’ve got!” 

They all flocked toward him, but he motioned 
them back, grinning mischievously, and saying 
importantly, pretending great consideration for 
their feelings, ‘‘You folks that are afraid of 
snakes had better stay back ! ’ ’ And Aunty and 


228 


LITTLE FOLKS 


Elizabeth did not wait to hear any more about 
the snake, but almost fell over each other in 
their hurry to leave the spot. 

^‘This is a dandy shouted Eob, as Uncle 
drew near, the little ones very curious, but a 
little timid, following at his heels. 

^ ^ He was gettin ^ his dinner, ’ ’ continued Eob. 
‘‘But IVe fixed him! He’s a whale!” 

Sure enough, at Eob’s feet lay a large black 
snake, fully five feet long. In his jaws he still 
clutched a frog, only its hind-legs sticking out, 
while Eob pinned him down with a forked stick 
held firmly across his back, just below the head. 

“I’m chokin’ it out of him,” cried Eob, as the 
snake wriggled and doubled about. “Pull it 
out. Uncle. Pull the frog out!” 

“Oh, don’t let him eat the poor little frog,” 
cried Caroline, dancing wildly about under 
Uncle’s feet. “Kill it! Kill it!” 

‘ ‘ Kill the horrid old snake, ’ ’ echoed the twins. 

“I’m afraid the frog’s too far gone to save,” 
said Uncle, catching hold of the long legs and 
pulling it out, very much squashed indeed. 
“But you hang on to the snake till I get a stick 
and then you can kill it. ’ ’ 

The stick was quickly brought, and when 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 229 

Uncle and Rob joined the others, Rob proudly 
trailed the long black snake behind him, taking 
it home ^To show to Marshall.” 

‘T wonder if birds think they are safe from 
snakes in blackberry-bushes,” said Elizabeth, 
as they noticed one flying in and out, as if it 
might have young in there. 

‘^On the contrary,” answered Uncle, ‘‘black 
snakes also like just such places, especially 
blackberry-bushes, for they like the berries. 
And they also like young birds to eat. So it 
cannot be very safe for the birds, but very con- 
venient for the snakes.” 

“Maybe Nature is looking out for the snakes 
a little bit, too,” suggested Rob. “They have 
to live, too.” 

“Ugh!” exclaimed Elizabeth, her tone ex- 
pressing no sympathy for the snake. “They 
donT need any one to take care of ’em. 
They’re not worth taking care of, anyway.” 

“What are those rogues up to over there?” 
exclaimed Uncle, tossing a berry toward the 
twins, who were eagerly discussing some ques- 
tion behind a big tree. 

“Dunno,” said Rob indifferently. “Mis- 
chief, I reckon. Looks like it.” 


230 


LITTLE FOLKS 


^ ^ What language ! ’ ’ reproved Elizabeth, toss- 
ing her head. 

‘‘Don^t tell Uncle, they heard Sherburne 
say, as they drew near. ‘^Pl-ease don’t, Jim- 
mie,” he pleaded. ‘‘We’ll find it and keep it, 
an’ you can have half.” 

“Fitch half?” questioned James doubtfully. 

“We-ell the head half, maybe, if you won’t 
tell,” ver^^ reluctantly. 

“Oh, I’ll tell you,” cried James, with a new 
idea, “we’ll ’vide her sideways. Ven we’ll both 
have some head and tail too! But,” doubt- 
fully, “I don’t b’lieve you heard one. An’ 
’sides Uncle says vey eat birds.” 

“My Bluebell didn’t,” argued Sherburne. 
“I never did once saw her!” he declared, his 
words getting much tangled up. “She ated 
milk every time, she did!” 

His words were interrupted by a long-drawn- 
out “Mi-a-ou!” 

“Why, Uncle,” cried Elizabeth, “it’s a cat! 
Away out here!” 

“I’ll shoot it,” threatened Rob angrily, “if 
it comes about our woods.” 

“Where is it?” cried Sherburne. “I can’t 
see it anywhere.” 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 231 

‘Tn ve bushes, I guess, said James, coming 
forth from behind the tree, closely followed by 
Sherburne. Sherburne heard it by-fore.’’ 

‘‘It is! It is!” cried Sherburne, delighted, 
for he dearly loved a cat. ‘ ‘ Oh, can we keep it. 
Uncle?” 

''May-can-may we keep it?” pleaded Caro- 
line, pulling Uncle’s coat-tails vigorously, to 
get his attention. 

“If you can find a cat, you ‘may-can-may’ 
keep it,” mimicked Uncle, laughing. 

“Oh, goody! goody! It’s in dese bushes,” 
cried Sherburne, beginning to pull away the 
trailing, thorny branches, not heeding the pricks 
he got. 

“I’ll kill the old thing!” threatened Rob 
again. “Why, Uncle, it’ll kill all our birds. 
Don’t you know it will?” 

“This one won’t kill birds,” laughed Uncle. 

“No! No!” cried Sherburne triumphantly, 
his face brightening. “Ours won’t, will it. 
Uncle? Ours won’t be trained to eat birds, will 
it?” and he pushed himself bravely in among 
the thorns. 

At the first rustle of the bushes near him, up 
flew a trim, long-tailed, slate-colored bird, with 


232 LITTLE FOLKS 

a velvety black crown, or cap, the children 
called it. 

‘^Wait a moment, said Uncle to the little 
ones. ^^Be quiet. Don’t frighten that bird. 
Watch him.” 

The bird did not fly far away, but perched 
upon a stump in the hedge, dressed his feathers 
a little, and then burst into song, seeming to 
mark time by a peculiar, jerking motion of his 
tail. 

^‘How pretty!” cried the girls and Aunty in 
a chorus. 

^^Oh, come on,” pleaded impatient Sherburne. 
^ ‘ Come, help me hunt my kitty. ’ ’ 

‘^Sh! Sh! Wait,” cautioned Uncle again. 

The bird tossed his head, flipped his tail a 
time or two, and then began a low, sweet warble, 
quite different from the first song. The chil- 
dren were delighted. But the bird had not yet 
finished ‘‘showing off,” for he really seemed to 
be doing so. No; he flew down to the ground, 
helped himself daintily to a little luncheon, flew 
back to the post, and then standing there, so 
smooth and glossy, “just like a little gentle- 
man,” as Elizabeth said, he deliberately and 
distinctly sang the robins’ even-song! 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 233 

The children could scarcely refrain from 
clapping their hands with pleasure at the pretty 
little surprise, hut Uncle shook his finger 
sternly at them, lest they frighten the bird. 

‘ ‘ I know what it is, ’ ’ whispered Elizabeth, at 
Uncle’s side. ‘Tt’s a ‘mawkin’-bird.’ IVe 
heard Mec tell about ’em lots of times ! ’ ’ And 
all unconsciously she imitated the old mammy’s 
pronunciation. ^^But I didn’t know they came 
away up here.” 

‘ ‘ No, ’ ’ said Uncle, ‘ ‘ this isn ’t a mocking-bird, 
but his near cousin, and a fine mimic, though 
not so good as the mocker.” Even as he spoke, 
the bird changed its song to the shrill ‘ ‘ Chirp ! 
Chirp ! ” of the sparrow. Then in a twinkling 
his tail drooped, his head slumped down be- 
tween his shoulders, his feathers in some mys- 
terious way became sadly ruffled, and, with the 
most forlorn, uncared-for appearance, he 
drawled out, * ‘ Mi-a-ou ! Mi-a-ou ! Mi-a-ou ! ’ ’ 

Then, amidst the shouts of laughter and 
hearty applause of the children, he flew swiftly 
away. 

There’s your kitten, Sherburne,” said Rob, 
bound to tease. '‘How d’you like him?” 

"That’s a bird,” cried Sherburne, scarcely 


LITTLE FOLKS 


234 

able to keep back the tears, though he tried 
bravely. ‘Tt wasn’t my kitty a-tall! He’s a 
mean old bird to try to fool me.” For he still 
thought there was a kitten somewhere about. 
‘Tt was all the kitty there was, sonny,” said 
Uncle, patting the flushed cheeks kindly. ^Tt 
was a catbird. Come,” he exclaimed, noticing 
the quivering lip and shining eyes, ‘4et us 
hunt for his nest. It may be about here some- 
where. ’ ’ 

It was some time before they found it, hidden 
deep in a tangle of prickly bushes. And when 
they did find it, the children pronounced it ‘ ‘ not 
pretty at all,” as it was so loosely and care- 
lessly woven. But in it were three baby cat- 
birds, or ‘‘kitten birds,” as Caroline called 
them, all loudly crying for food whenever the 
bush was disturbed near their nest. 

Uncle hid the children near by, hoping to see 
the mother-bird feed them. After a quarter of 
an hour of cramped waiting, the father-bird, 
whom they had seen cautiously approaching the 
nest, warily, as if uneasy, finally fed the little 
ones so hastily that Elizabeth wondered that he 
did not choke them. And though they watched 
for more than half an hour, they had not a 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 235 

glimpse of tlie mother-bird. But the male re- 
turned again and again to feed them. 

‘‘They must be half-orphans,’^ said Uncle at 
last, rising to go. “Probably the little mother 
has been killed, and the poor father is raising 
them alone, or else they are quite orphans and 
this bird has adopted them. Catbirds seldom 
let little orphaned catbirds die, but will care 
for them as if they were their own. Perhaps 
you can help feed them, Sherburne, if you’re 
very, very careful. At any rate, you may call 
them yours,” he added, trying to comfort the 
child, for his disappointment was sore. “And 
you must come often to see that nothing hap- 
pens to them.” 

Thus comforted, Sherburne trudged happily 
home with the rest, all rosy and hungry, and 
ready for a hearty supper. 


CHAPTEE XVII 


shebbuene’s pet 

“Blue cedar-berries bid you come, 

And brambles have gathered work, 

For tiny bills to twine and pull.” 

Augusta Larned. 

The warm summer days sped quickly by. 
Each morning the twins went, the first thing, to 
the little sparrow ^s nest, and proudly made their 
report to Uncle. In three days four little birds 
had pecked their way out of the shells, and 
the little parents highly entertained the children 
with their devoted care of their babies. 

“0 dear,^^ sighed Elizabeth one day, when 
they were trjdng to crowd several happy little 
expeditions into one brief week, know there 
arenT so many days between Saturday and 
Monday now, as there were when we were in 
school.’^ She looked very comfortable lying 
there in a hammock, her toe just touching the 
ground and helping a gentle swing now and then. 
They called this pretty spot between the two 
^36 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 237 

tents the drawing-room, and had hung several 
hammocks there, and scattered to the best ad- 
vantage their two or three easy-chairs. Here 
the family gathered as they had in the big liv- 
ing-room at home. 

Where are we going for our walk to-mor- 
row, Uncle Elizabeth asked, as that gentle- 
man joined their group, holding an ominous 
slip of yellow paper in his hand. 

“If you walk with me,’^ laughed he, “it will 

be upon the hot and dusty streets of M . I 

have a telegram calling me there for a day or 
so.’’ 

“That’s too bad, in this hot weather,” sym- 
pathized Papa; “and the trout biting so well, 
too!” 

The children groaned over the news, but there 
were so many things to do in this enchanted 
land that they soon ceased their lamentations. 
Marshall really missed his uncle more than any 
of the others, for he depended so much upon 
him for his amusement. Uncle gave him very 
little time in which to worry over his ill-health. 

He lay in his hammock the next day, eagerly 
watching any little feathered adventurer that 
came near, hoping that he might learn some- 


LITTLE FOLKS 


238 

thing of real value to tell his uncle upon his 
return. But the birds were utterly common- 
place. They seemed to have no original inspi- 
rations to-day, and Marshall sympathized with 
them, for it was a hot and uninspiring day. 

Mamma and Aunty were lying down, the chil- 
dren had wandered away from camp, and Mar- 
shall, receiving no encouragement from the 
birds, soon laid down his pencil and composed 
himself for a nap. His hammock swung gently 
back and forth, and just as he was drifting into 
that delightful semi-conscious state, between 
sleeping and waking, Sherburne rushed into the 
‘ ^ drawing-room, ^ ^ rousing him with a start. 

‘‘See what IVe found cried the child, his 
cheeks very red, and his eyes very bright with 
excitement. “Tell us what it is, Marsh^’; and 
he laid a little half -dead baby bird in Marshall’s 
hand. Its little heart throbbed so violently 
that it seemed about to burst through the 
tender, half-naked skin. Its mouth was wide- 
open, its breath coming in gasps, and its bright 
black eyes were wild with fear. 

“Poor little fellow!” pitied Marshall. “I 
wonder what it is. It hasn’t enough clothes 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 239 

on, Sherburne, to tell.^’ And he laid the little 
bird against his warm cheek. 

Aunty, hearing the excited voices, came out 
of her tent, and they appealed to her for infor- 
mation. Very tenderly she took the little crea- 
ture in one hand, covering it with the other, 
softly, as its brooding mother might have 
pressed her breast against it, and in a moment 
it became quiet. 

‘Tt knows you love it. Mamma, whispered 
little Sherburne. ‘Tt knows you wouldn’t hurt 
it.” 

“If only Uncle were here,” complained the 
children, “he’d know what it is.” 

“I believe it is thirsty,” suggested Aunty, 
and, dipping her finger into a cup of water, she 
allowed a drop to fall into the wide-spread 
mouth. My ! what a fuss the little fellow made ! 
He sputtered and choked, and did everything 
but sneeze, the children said. Aunty looked on 
in dismay at his convulsive attempts to swallow, 
and after a time he disposed of the drop in 
some way. 

“We must feed him,” now suggested Mamma, 
who had joined them, for she knew how comfort- 


240 


LITTLE FOLKS 


ing it is to the young of the human race, when in 
trouble, to be filled up. 

^^You may,’’ said Aunty very decidedly, and 
gave the bird into her hands. 

So the children brought corn-meal mixed with 
water, and laid a little in the bird ’s mouth ; but 
after much sputtering and tossing of his little 
head, he threw this also out of his mouth. 

‘‘He must want worms,” said Bob, and hur- 
ried off to get some. A plump little green 
worm, laid in his beak, was rejected in the same 
emphatic way, and the children were in despair. 

Then Aunty suggested that perhaps the little 
fellow was not hungry, and should be put in a 
safe place and left alone for a while. This 
advice was followed, and plainly suited the bird, 
for all the rest of the day he squatted upon the 
floor -of the cage where they had put him. Not 
a mouthful did he swallow, though the children 
made several more attempts to feed him, and 
Sherburne hovered near him constantly. 

“You’ll have to turn him loose when Uncle 
comes,” said Caroline, a wee bit jealous be- 
cause Sherburne claimed the bird. “He won’t 
let you keep him. ’ ’ 

“He hasn’t any muwer,” argued Sherburne, 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 241 

his lip beginning to quiver, for he loved the help- 
less little thing. ‘^Leastways I couldn^t find 
her. So I don^t see why I can’t keep him. 
He would die wifout some one to take care of 
him. Guess my mamma knows how to care of 
a bird!” In all his short four years of life 
Sherburne had never wanted anything as he 
wanted this little pet. 

Uncle says it’s cruel to keep ’em in a cage,” 
argued Caroline. 

^‘Oh, but I sha’n’t,” cried Sherburne eagerly; 
^^only till he gets tame. Then I’ll let him fly 
round ever ’where, and jus’ sleep in his cage 
nights, like Uncle did wif the little sparrow.” 

But Caroline shook her head dubiously, and 
just then a shout from Marshall interrupted 
their conversation. 

<<I’ve got it!” he cried. ^‘Here’s all about 
him! I’ll bet it’s a cedar-bird, — a waxwing, — 
and belongs to that bunch in the tree over there. 
This book says the old birds feed ’em by re- 
gur-gi-ta-tion. ” Even Marshall had to take 
that long word a bit at a time. ‘‘That means 
she swallows the food first, and then pokes her 
bill into the little bird ’s mouth and spits up the 
food into it,” he explained, not very elegantly. 


LITTLE FOLKS 


242 

we must admit, but clearly. Even MarshalFs 
language seemed to testify to the happy fact 
that his health was daily improving. 

^^But I can’t do that!^' cried Sherburne, dis- 
mayed at the idea. 

^‘No, of course not,” said Marshall thought- 
fully. ‘‘0 dear ! I wish that Uncle were here I 
This says they eat berries. You go hunt some, 
Jimmie.” 

He lay studying the book earnestly while the 
boys were gone, and when they returned, he 
said, ^^Now you watch me.” Laying a berry 
in the bird’s gaping mouth, he gave it a gen- 
tle push with his little finger, far down into 
the hungry little throat. It closed like a trap, 
and with a gulp the berry disappeared amidst 
shouts of delight from the children. They 
raced off to call Mamma and Aunty, who were 
much relieved to hear that the little creature 
need not starve to death. Indeed, after starv- 
ing all day, it was now in danger of being 
stuffed to death by this fascinating method of 
feeding. However, it survived, and seemed 
none the worse. 

The next morning Mamma awakened the 
children early, calling them to see the little 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 243 

prisoner. There he sat, huddled up close to 
the bars of the cage his head pushed far 
through. On the outside the poor, anxious 
mother-bird clung to the bars of the cage, feed- 
ing her baby berries she had brought to him in 
her throat. How early she had come, or how 
many times she had been there, no one knew. 
They watched the pitiful little scene in silence, 
until the mother, having emptied her fruit- 
basket, flew away to her other little ones, where, 
a little later, they could see her feeding them. 

Sherburne’s eyes were shining now. What 
better care could his pet have than its own 
mother’s? But when he turned to his mother 
for sympathy, he was astonished to see her eyes 
filled with tears. 

‘‘You must let him go, sonny,” she said, 
laying her hand on the boy’s head. 

But Sherburne’s expression was rebellious. 
“Let my bird go now?” he cried. “Why, its 
mamma is taking care of it. Why, muvver, she 
knows how!” 

“Yes,” said his mamma, “she can take care 
of it, perhaps. But it must be very hard for 
her to see her little one in prison, and be unable 
to get him out.” 


LITTLE FOLKS 


244 

But the children all joined in begging to be 
allowed to keep the bird. So finally Aunty said 
that Sherburne might do exactly as he thought 
it was right to do, but she would insist that all 
of to-day he should watch the little mother- 
bird and the baby. Ah! wise Aunty! 

Sherburne was overjoyed with this permis- 
sion, and gladly hung about the cage all morn- 
ing and far into the afternoon. After the 
mother’s feeding, the little cedar-bird bright- 
ened up wonderfully. He hopped a step or two 
about the cage, and cried noisily for his mamma. 
After the second feeding he settled down com- 
fortably for a nap. Hourly he seemed to be- 
come more desirable to Sherburne. Regularly 
the little mother came to feed him, and each time 
he seemed more lively. Toward night he began 
to try to force himself through the bars of the 
cage. The little mother, too, grew more rest- 
less, and flew around and around the gilded 
prison, trying in every way she knew to get in, 
even pulling at the bars of the cage, in a vain at- 
tempt to free her little one. Sherburne’s face 
grew very grave as he watched her. At last 
night cam.e, and birds and children settled down 
to rest. 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 245 

But, for the first time in all his life, Sher- 
burne could not go to sleep. He tried lying 
first on one side and then on the other, and on 
his stomach. But all in vain. He could not be 
comfortable. Every time he closed his eyes he 
saw his little prisoner, and the sad-eyed mother, 
struggling against the prison-bars. Once he 
sat up in bed, quite sure he heard the little 
cage rattle, as it did when the mother bird 
alighted upon it. After what seemed an end- 
less time, kind nature came to his relief and 
the boy slept. 

But by and by, instead of being in his cozy 
bed, he found himself in a hideous prison, not 
larger than his own little bedroom at home. 
Outside the bars stood a monster bird, which 
squawked at him and kept poking things into 
his mouth — nasty worms, and bugs, and horrid- 
tasting messes. He tried to force his way 
through the bars, but it was impossible. 

Then the bird prison-keeper flew away, and 
his dear mother came. She fed him the things 
he liked, but she wept bitterly all the while. 
He tried to put his arms through the bars and 
around her dear neck, but the bars were too 
close together; and when she went away, he 


246 LITTLE FOLKS 

beat his body against them and screamed 
wildly. 

Aunty awoke at the first sound of the baby 
voice and flew to the side of her boy. When she 
reached his bedside she found him awake, but 
cowering under the covers, sobbing bitterly. 
She took him in her arms and questioned him, 
soothing him with mother hugs and kisses. He 
clung wildly to her, but soon became calmer. 
No, he was not sick, he said, when she questioned 
him. Yes, he had had a bad dream. Yes, he 
knew now it wasn^t real. But, oh, it was real 
for somebody! he wailed afresh. And then he 
^‘guessed that he was hungry.’’ But when she 
brought him milk and bread, he could not swal- 
low for a lump that came in his throat; and 
when she looked away he hid the bread under 
his pillow. At last he lay still, and she slipped 
away, thinking he had only had a dream, and 
would sleep now. 

A half-hour later, as she lay wondering about 
his fright, she heard the sound of footsteps out- 
side the tent. Eising quickly, she softly pulled 
aside the tent-flap and peered out. 

There in the moonlight a little white-clad fig- 
ure was creeping softly toward the cedar-bird’s 



He lifted the door of the cage. — Page 247. 





VrW-?'’ v#o#^’"’ 

■m fc« * •■c- *. * i t- V- ^ > 

■■■r V f' CV ^ ^ " ' = ^ 1^ - ‘ : ' /SIR K '' ■ 

BBBi ‘ -Nt* ^v^*JL''“ 


•' • V ,/ 5 .^ 




V..S .’ "' vV; ^ 


„ S;.-; ,<■“-= ' ‘iM 

A # .^ • *,* 4*. 6 i 7 


l-v 


• V '. « 


( ■ 


'.4.. * 




^ ^ <’i— •* ?: 



•, > . i'- •■■m ■ ■ ^ '-■* 


4 ^ 




# i • • <•* y 

’ • - 4 f g * y'^ 
^ 7 | 







e 


•l!: - . ■■•x-../'-^ 





' .,'fwii, *:.'■' • r4>- 



I V 



v/*', - ^ •. ''^* - 1 ? fc 

J" • Jh_ ^ ^ ■%' • *< 


t t 





V Tii *. 




► • ♦ 
k ».‘ 



* /-*; 


^ ' • tB^V - ■ t ■- ^ ‘ ^ .^s ^1L 









V* 




TRAMPING AND CAMPING 247 

cage. Looking cautiously about him, to make 
sure no one was watching, he lifted the door of 
the cage and fastened it securely, never dream- 
ing that mother ^s eyes were on him, and moth- 
er’s heart was singing a song of thanksgiving, 
for a boy with courage to do the right thing. 

Softly the child slipped back to bed and a 
dreamless sleep. 

He slept late the next morning, and was 
awakened by the children, who pounced upon 
him to tell him that some one had opened the 
door of the cage and freed his little pet. The 
children wondered about the mystery all morn- 
ing, but Sherburne seemed strangely undis- 
turbed, even uninterested. 

When Uncle came they almost overwhelmed 
him with questions. He quite agreed with them 
that the little mother bird could not have opened 
the cage door. 

Later, after a quiet talk with Aunty, he took 
Sherburne upon his knee, and, pointing to the 
cedar-bird parents, happily feeding their babies 
in the tree near-by, he said, ‘^Aren’t you glad 
that your little pet escaped?” 

Sherburne’s eyes dropped. ‘‘Yes, I am,” he 
said, almost in a whisper. 


248 TRAMPING AND CAMPING 

‘‘You will be more than glad, when I have 
told you what would have happened soon, if the 
little fellow had been kept a prisoner. ’ ^ 

Sherburne looked up inquiringly. 

‘ ‘ The unhappy little mother would have cared 
for her baby a little while, continued Uncle, 
impressively, “and then, when she had lost all 
hope of saving him, she would have fed her 
own little son poison berries until she hilled 
him!^^ 

Sherburne caught his breath. “Oh,’’ he 
gasped. “Oh, Uncle, I am so glad I didn’t 
know that before I dream — before I went to 
sleep!” 


CHAPTEE XVIII 


ANNE 

“Little words of kindness, 

Little deeds of love, 

Make this world an Eden, 

Like the Heaven above.” 

There were neighbors near enough to supply 
the family with fresh milk, butter, eggs, and 
honie-made bread. The trout-stream was a 
never-failing basis of supply, and some one was 
always glad to go fishing. Papa was an enthu- 
siastic fisherman, and Uncle frequently tried 
his luck. The table was always well supplied 
with trout. 

Through the children, largely, the family was 
rapidly becoming acquainted with the neigh- 
bors, and the friendliest relations were estab- 
lished. Our happy little party had readily 
fallen into the ways of camp-life, and now went 
about their duties quite as if at home. 

Much of the time Marshall passed in his ham- 
mock, content to lie and drink in the life-giving 
sunshine and fresh air, and watch the birds in 


249 


LITTLE FOLKS 


250 

the branches above his head. His hammock 
now hung where he could see the interesting 
cedar-bird family from where he lay. 

'‘What a very attentive bird the waxwing is,'' 
he said one day to his Uncle, as he lay lazily 
watching the parent bird flying back and forth 
with food for the little ones. 

"His nickname, or local name, is the 'polite 
bird,' " said Uncle. "I wish you could see a 
flock of them, sitting side by side upon a branch, 
smoothing each other's feathers, and twitter- 
ing softly to one another. One will pick up 
some dainty titbit, and, instead of eating it, 
will pass it to his neighbor. He, in turn, will 
pass it on, and they continue this until, perhaps, 
it reaches the last bird in the row, before it is 
eaten. This is all the more singular, when we 
remember that in babyhood they are such glut- 
tons. Our scientists have not yet satisfactorily 
explained this strange habit, though some think 
that the bird's throat is opened and shut by a 
valvular arrangement that refuses to open the 
throat so long as the bird's crop is full." 

"I refuse to believe it," laughed Marshall. 
"It takes all the poetry away from what must 
be a very pretty little scene." 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 251 

“Uncle! Uncle!’’ cried a frightened voice, 
rudely breaking in upon them. And Caroline 
came flying through the woods, her bobbed hair 
bouncing up and down as she leaped over a 
log, stumbled over a tent-pin, and finally fell 
plump into their startled midst. 

“Oh, Uncle! Quick! Come quick! Come 
quick! He’s awful sick!” And for once Rob, 
even, was too much frightened to tease her 
about the rime. “An’ his papa’s gone, an’ 
his mamma, — an’ Anne don’t know what to do 
with him! He got all stiff an’ blue, an’ — 
an’-^” 

But Uncle was on his feet long before she 
reached this part of the 'story, had snatched up 
a small black case from the “stump desk,” and 
started off in the direction from which Caroline 
had come. 

“She’s coming. Uncle,” Caroline called after 
him, gasping for breath. “You needn’t go. 
She’s bringing him.” But Uncle was gone. 

A few rods away he met a pretty, fair-haired 
little girl, not much older than Elizabeth. She 
stumbled along, her breath coming in short sobs, 
and in her arms a heavy baby. 

“Come with me,” said Uncle shortly, not 


252 


LITTLE FOLKS 


stopping to explain, and, taking the silent baby 
into his own strong arms, he strode back to- 
ward camp. Relieved of her burden, the child 
easily kept up with Uncle’s long, easy strides, 
one hand keeping hold of a wee baby foot. And 
relieved of the dreadful responsibility, she 
quickly regained her composure, though her 
face remained very pale. 

‘‘Oh, seh,” she cried gratefully, “I reckon 
you are Caroline’s uncle, and I’m so glad! I 
was all alone with Baby. Aunt ’Liza and Uncle 
’Gene are gone to town.” She paused for 
breath. Her voice was unusually musical, and 
she spoke in the soft southern tongue, losing all 
her r^s in her excitement. “Then Caroline 
came,” she continued; “she comes right 
often, — and we were playing with Baby, just the 
same as we always do. And we brought him 
oveh heah to the riveh. An’ then, 0 deah! 0 
deah! I reckon he had a spasm!” And the 
poor child wrung her hands as she recalled the 
terrible moment. 

“Yes,” said Uncle shortly, all doctor now, 
“he did. Here we are.” And entering the 
tent by the back entrance, he laid the baby upon 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 253 

his own bed, and deftly began undressing the 
little figure. 

‘‘Hot water, Edna,’’ he commanded sternly. 
“Ice, Alice!” And while the ladies flew 
quickly about, obeying his orders, the children 
gathered in a frightened group, questioning 
Caroline, and eyeing the pretty little stranger, 
who hung tearfully over the baby, assuring the 
unconscious little fellow that she hadn’t meant 
to do anything to hu’t him if she did.” 

And once Uncle paused in his work long 
enough to say sternly, “You had nothing to do 
with his illness, child ! ’ ’ 

When it was all over, and Baby lying com- 
fortably asleep on the bed. Mamma drew the 
little stranger to her, saying gently; “Now we 
have time for you. What is your name, my 
dear, and where do you live ? ’ ’ 

“My name is Anne Leslie, and I came here 
from the south to live with my aunt. No, she 
isn’t my aunt, really. But she’s the only kin 
I have in the world. ’ ’ And her pretty lips quiv- 
ered threateningly. 

But Aunty patted her comfortingly on the 
shoulder, saying, “I knew you were a little 


254 


LITTLE FOLKS 


rebel. You see your tongue is ours, my deary,’’ 
and purposely she drawled the words in good 
old Dixie style. 

Anne smiled wanly and continued: ‘^They 
all went to town to-day an’ left me alone with 
the baby. He wasn’t very well yeste’day, but 
he was betteh this mo’nin’. They-all didn’t 
think he was much sick, or I don’t think they 
would have gone,” she added in an apologetic 
manner. ‘ ‘ Caroline came oveh, and we took the 
baby oveh yondeh to the riveh. He ’d been right 
whimsey all mo’nin’, an’ when we tried to 
make him throw rocks in the riveh he wouldn’t 
do it or anything else. And then, all of a sud- 
den, he jus’ stiffened out in my lap, an’ then, — 
an’ then Caroline said, ‘Bring him to Uncle’; 
an ’ I didn ’t stop f o ’ anything, I jus ’ came. An ’ 
I’m right obliged to you-all,” and she looked 
gratefully from one to the other. She told her 
little tale in such a simple, straightforward 
manner, that it, with her pretty face and south- 
ern tongue, quite won their hearts. 

“Well, well!” said Mamma, when she had 
finished, tenderly smoothing the damp hair back 
from the child’s white forehead, “you just rest 
here until your aunt and uncle come, and we’ll 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 255 

take care of the baby. Try to play with the 
children a little now. I assure you, Baby is in 
good hands with our doctor.^’ 

All afternoon the two little strangers re- 
mained at the camp, Anne not playing much 
with the children, but watching over the sleep- 
ing baby in a tender, motherly way, very pretty 
to see. 

‘‘She knows lots about birds,” said Caroline, 
later in the afternoon, anxious to show off her 
new friend to Uncle. “ ’Most as much as you 
do. Uncle. Don’t you, Anne?” 

Anne’s pale cheeks flushed rosy red. “Oh, 
Caroline,” she cried, “I don’t! You know I 
don’t. Oh, seh, I nevah said so! Indeed, I 
didn’t, seh!” 

Her quaint way of addressing him as “sir,” 
in the Southern fashion, pleased Uncle, for it 
reminded him of his own childhood, and the 
learned men he was taught to address as ‘ ‘ sir. ’ ’ 
He smiled at her, and putting his arm about her, 
drew her to him. 

“Do you love the birds, too?” he inquired 
kindly. 

“Oh, yes, seh,” she answered eagerly. “I 
do love ’em. But I don’t know anything at all 


LITTLE FOLKS 


256 

about ’em scarcely, ’cept what I’ve seen. Lots 
of ’em I don’t even know the names of. Car- 
oline says you know all about ’em all, though, ’ ’ 
and she glanced shyly up into his face. 

Uncle smiled. ‘T know most of them up here 
by name,” he answered. ‘^You have been to 
school, I suppose?” he questioned her cauti- 
ously, for he felt that there was something in 
the child worth bringing out, and he did not 
wish to frighten her. 

‘‘Yes, seh,” she answered, “some. Not since 
I came up heah, though. You see, I came late 
in February, and Uncle said it was too late to 
sta’t in then, fo’ this yea’. He says I’m about 
big enough to stop school, anyway”; and she 
sighed unconsciously, her big eyes slowly filling 
with tears. 

“How did you happen to come here?” Uncle 
continued, for, in his kindly way, he always 
wanted to know all about his friends. 

“I haven’t any fathe’ or mothe’,” was the 
pitiful answer. ‘ ‘ And when Grandf athe ’ died, ’ ’ 
her voice trembled dangerously, “I didn’ have 
anywhe’s else to go. He used to talk to me 
about the bi’ds, but we didn’t have any books. 
We had to sell them and he tried to teach me to 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 257 

speak correctly’’; and, as if remembering his 
lessons, she chose her words carefully. And I 
can use pretty correct English, when I remem- 
beh,” she said, as if proud of her old grand- 
father’s teaching. '‘‘But, oh, I do so want to 
go to school!” And she clasped her hands to- 
gether in her earnestness. 

Behind Uncle’s back irreverent Rob made a 
comical grimace at Elizabeth, expressing his 
astonishment and contempt of any such senti- 
ment. 

Uncle sat musing silently for some time, then, 
turning to Mamma, he said, and to the children 
it seemed entirely beside the question : 
“That’s a pretty big house you have in town, 
Edna. Quite full, I suppose all the time. ’ ’ 

Mamma smiled. “0 dear, no,” she said 
laughingly. ‘ ‘ That house is made of India rub- 
ber and will stretch indefinitely.” The chil- 
dren looked at one another much puzzled. 
Aunty smiled at her sewing. 

“So you know lots about birds, do you?” 
Uncle said, coming back to the subject and 
Anne. 

Anne blushed painfully. “No, seh,” she ex- 
plained again. “Caroline said that.” 


LITTLE FOLKS 


258 

<<Why, Uncle, she does though. She told me 
about, — about, — oh, lots of ’em. She had some 
doves. An’ they always lay two eggs. An’ — 
an’ — ” 

^‘Yes, we know it was Anne,” said Eob, un- 
able to keep from teasing any longer. ^‘Gro on, 
Flannigan. ’ ’ 

But Caroline threw a fat rag-doll at him, 
which stopped his mouth squarely. 

Just then the baby stirred and Anne sprang 
to his side. His fever was do^vn, and, as it was 
after five o’clock. Uncle suggested that Baby 
should have some milk and water, and Anne a 
heartier lunch, and then he would walk home 
with them. 

When he returned from the walk he was very 
grave and thoughtful. While they were seated 
at the supper-table he told them that he had 
met Anne ’s uncle and aunt, who had come home 
shortly after he and Anne arrived at the house. 
They seemed a very different class of people 
from what one would expect Anne’s relatives to 
be. The man was rough and profane, and the 
woman was complaining and irritable, perhaps 
tired from her long ride. 

But here Caroline, who had been all attention. 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 259 

exclaimed: ‘^She^s always cross! She hits 
Anne over the head with the dish-cloth jus’ for 
nothing. An’ she scolds her all the time!” she 
ended indignantly. 

‘ ^ How do you happen to know so much about 
them?” exclaimed Papa, not caring to have his 
little daughter pick up such undesirable people 
for friends. 

Caroline looked down at her plate. ‘T went 
to see the baby,” she said. 

‘‘Are you never going to stop picking up all 
kinds of stray babies?” sighed Mamma. 

“How did you know there was a baby?” 
asked Papa. 

‘ ‘ I met him in the woods one day with Anne, ’ ’ 
she explained. “I like Anne, but I don’t like 
her aunt and uncle. An’ they don’t like her. 
I know they don’t. She had a little bit of 
money, but she paid it all to them for her board, 
she said, and now they don’t like her any more. 
An’ I don’t think they’ll let her go to school 
nex’ year, either.” And the child nodded her 
head sagely as she picked up her spoon and re- 
turned to her supper. 


CHAPTER XIX 


LESSONS 

‘Do not shoot us, Hiawatha,^ 

Sang the Opechee, the robin, 

Sang the bluebird, the Owaissa, 

‘Do not shoot us, Hiawatha/ ” 

Hiawatha, Longfellow. 

The next day Mamma and Aunty, with Car- 
oline to guide them, walked over to Mr. Peake’s, 
to inquire about the sick baby. They found 
him about as well as ever again, and were as 
little pleased with his mother as Uncle had been. 
During their call Anne went about her duties, 
speaking when she was spoken to, and in every 
way behaving as a well-bred child should do. 

reckon the baby got all bet up,” the woman 
complained, sticking hairpins in and out of her 
untidy hair. ‘‘He ain’t never had one of them 
spells afore. She ain’t no hand at all with 
chillem. ’ ’ 

“She doesn’t seem very strong,” suggested 
Mamma, looking at Anne’s slight figure, bent 
260 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 261 


under the weight of the heavy baby she carried 
up and down the floor. And her heart ached 
for Anne as she thought of her own straight- 
backed children, their little bodies never bent by 
too heavy burdens. 

‘‘Oh, she’s strong ’nuff. She’s one o’ them 
white kind that never has no color. Her ol’ 
granpa jest reg’lar spoiled her. She jes’ stayed 
in the house an’ read books down there among 
them southerns till she don’t know nothin’ but 
book learnin’.” The woman had an unpleas- 
ant, whining voice, that was very disagreeable 
to listen to, and she made no attempt to lower 
it, that Anne might not hear her unkind words. 
The child’s delicate face flushed and paled, and 
her soft eyes filled with tears and overflowed. 
But she wiped them on the baby ’s little slip and 
said nothing, but pressed her lips against the 
soft baby-cheek, to steady their trembling. 

‘ ‘ Is Anne going to remain with you ! ’ ’ asked 
Mamma cautiously, when the woman paused in 
her complaining. 

‘ ‘ Hm ! ’ ’ the woman grumbled. ‘ ‘ Bon ’t know 
where she’d go unless she does,” she said. 
“I’m her only near kin, an’ I ain’t so awful near 
either. We ain’t got much ourselves without 


262 


LITTLE FOLKS 


dividin’ with her. I ain’t jest sure it’s fair to 
the baby neither. ’ ’ 

When their visit ended, Mamma and Aunty 
urged Anne to come often to the camp, and 
wisely invited the woman to come also, and to 
allow Anne to bring the baby over. She well 
knew that Anne would not be allowed to come 
without him. 

The afternoon was warm, and as they wan- 
dered home they lingered along the sides of the 
dusty road, gathering flowers and enjoying the 
birds that flitted about the trees and hedges. 

When they reached camp they found Uncle 
ushering into their out-of-door drawing-room 
a caller, a rough but honest-looking farmer. In 
his hands he carried a burden that made the 
children gather about him in open-eyed horror. 
Strung on a strong cord were the dead bodies of 
a scarlet tanager; a goldfinch, in his brilliant 
black-and-gold plumage ; an indigo bunting, blue 
as the summer sky, from the top of his beak 
to the tip of his tail, though shading almost to 
black in places; an oriole; and a herring-gull, 
its snowy breast all stained with blood. Evi- 
dently he had chosen the most beautiful of his 
native birds for this cruel slaughter, for a more 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 263 

brilliant little group could scarcely have been 
collected in this part of the country. 

Dropping the birds in a pitiful little heap 
upon the ground, where their warm blood 
stained the grass about them, he removed his 
hat, plainly embarrassed, saying, as he wiped 
his perspiring forehead: ‘‘Your children told 
me you was huntin^ birds around here. I knew 
it warn’t time for game-birds, so I thought you 
must be after birds for hat-trimmin ’s. So I 
shot these here, thinkin’ you might buy ’em 
from me.” 

The children stared speechless for a moment, 
while the man stood shifting from one foot to 
the other, reading in their shocked faces that he 
had made some kind of a mistake. 

Then Caroline, dropping down beside the lit- 
tle blood-stained bodies, and wetting the feath- 
ers with her tears, explained between her sobs : 
“I told him that ! I didn’t know he’d think we 
were killing ’em ! ’ ’ 

Uncle lifted the still warm little bodies, and 
gently smoothed the ruffled feathers. The chil- 
dren wondered that he had not spoken a word 
in the presence of such evident cruelty to the 
birds he loved to protect. But he realized that 


264 LITTLE FOLKS 

here was a chance to teach a much-needed les- 
son ; and to do the good he wanted it to do, he 
must choose his words carefully. 

^>Do you often kill these pretty creatures T’ 
he asked quietly, at last. 

‘‘No, sir, I don%’^ answered the young fel- 
low slowly, as if searching for words, realizing, 
and much disturbed, that he had done some- 
thing after all of which these people disap- 
proved. 

“No, I never kill ’em at all, in fact,” he con- 
tinued. “You see, my woman likes to see ’em 
around the place, and if any kid hurts ’em she 
gets reglar mad. I wouldn ’t durst tell her that 
I shot these this afternoon,” and he grinned 
sheepishly, “for she scolded all momin’ after 
she heard what you was here for.” 

Uncle’s face lit up with relief. “If she feels 
that way about it, then why did you do it?” he 
asked. 

“Well, sir, money’s mighty scurse up my way 
just now. We’ve got a little shaver up to our 
shack,” and even in his embarrassment a proud 
note crept into his voice, “only three days old. 
An’ the wife’s been sick bad, an’ it takes a lot 
of money for nursing an’ medicin’ an’ all that. 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 265 

An^ I just thought if I could make an extry dol- 
lar or two this way, so easy you know, I ought 
to do it. For I do need money, else I wouldn^t 
have liked to kill the birds. ^ ’ After which long 
speech he wiped his face-, flushed with the heat 
and embarrassment, and looked uneasily from 
one to another. 

‘‘I see,’’ said Uncle. ^‘Sit down. Sit 
down,” and he pushed an easy-chair forward, 
and smiled in a way that put the man at ease 
in a moment. 

^^You misunderstood what our little girl 
meant. Youngsters like that don’t make them- 
selves ve:ry clear,” he explained kindly. ‘Tn 
fact, I am hunting the birds, but only with my 
eyes or a fleld-glass, for the purpose of study- 
ing them, their ways, their many varieties, what 
they eat, and so on. Some wise men in this 
great country of ours,” he continued, explain- 
ing as he would have to a child, ‘‘are studying 
the birds, trying to And out, without room for 
doubt, which birds are useful to us, and which 
destroy things that we need. In a small way I 
am trying to help them a little. Most farmers 
will shoot any hawk at sight. ’ ’ 

“Sure,” said the man, as Uncle paused, wait- 


266 


LITTLE FOLKS 


ing for the answer he knew would come. 
‘‘They kill -our chickens. 

“Yes, one or two kinds do,^^ Uncle admitted. 
“But many hawks never touch chickens, but, 
on the contrary, feed upon snakes, lizards, crick- 
ets, grasshoppers, mice, — all of which, as you 
know, injure your crops. To prove this, the 
United States government has had the stom- 
achs of many hundreds of hawks opened and 
the contents examined, thus proving, without 
any chance for doubt, just what they eat.^’ 

The young man stared at him in amazement, 
new thoughts crowding rapidly into his brain, 
and reflected in his face, while the children won- 
dered what good all this talk would do the little 
dead birds at their feet. 

“And these pretty creatures,’^ continued Un- 
cle, as if reading the children’s thoughts, “are 
even more harmless, if possible. ’ ’ 

“They eat our fruit,” argued the young man, 
eager to justify himself. 

Uncle smiled. “Some do, after they have 
eaten hundreds of cutworms, caterpillars, grass- 
hoppers, and other similar nuisances that might 
ruin, not only your fruit, but your fruit-trees as 
well. When they have really saved your fruit 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 267 

or crops for you, don^t you think they deserve 
a little of the harvest in return? But if you 
don^t want them to take your strawberries or 
cherries, plant a mulberry-tree or a few useless 
berry-bushes. The birds really seem to like 
them better. ’ ’ 

The man’s face was nowa'light with under* 
standing. He had taken no pleasure in killing 
the birds. 

‘‘My woman said they ate more bugs and 
them things than they did fruit,” he said 
proudly. “She’s awful fond of birds.” 

“Now,” said Uncle, “I’m going to ask you 
to do me a favor. I am going to send your 
wife and you some books to read. They will 
explain many things about the birds, and, until 
you have learned to recognize the Cooper’s 
hawk, the sharp-shinned hawk, and the gos- 
hawk, and can tell them from the others, I’m 
going to ask you to put away your gun and not 
shoot any. The three kinds I mentioned are 
very destructive, and when you have learned 
to know them, kill them if you like. ’ ’ 

The man grinned. “Sure,” he answered 
good-naturedly, “I reckon you know what 
you’re talkin’ about. An’ I ain’t got anything 


268 


LITTLE FOLKS 


against the birds, except if they ruin my crops 
or git my chicks. ’ ’ Then, taking up the bleed- 
ing victims, as if about to take his leave, he said 
doubtfully, half-sheepishly : ‘T donT jest 
know what to do with these. I canT take ’em 
home, that’s sure.” And he gave his shoulders 
an expressive shrug. 

^T’ll buy these from you,” said Uncle 
quickly, ^‘and send them to a museum that I 
know will be glad to get them. 

‘‘Do you know any people near here named 
Peake?” he asked, changing the subject 
abruptly. 

“Yes, I do,” the man said, his face darken- 
ing. “Know all I want to about ’em, an’ then 
some.” 

“They have a little girl named Anne,” con- 
tinued Uncle. 

But the man interrupted quickly. “ ’Tain’t 
theirn, ’ ’ he said. ‘ ‘ She ’s ’dopted or somethin ’. 
Mighty nice little thing, too. My wife likes her 
mighty well, — but the old man and his woman ! ’ ’ 
The man gave another expressive shrug to his 
shoulders, and then added, “They say he’s 
awful crool to his beasts.” 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 269 

^ ‘ They do T ’ exclaimed Uncle, much in- 
terested, and anxious to learn more. 

^‘Yes. Beats his horses, an’ all such like 
things. My woman jest reg’lar hates that 
man.” And he smiled, as if at some amusing 
recollection. 

‘^Are they cruel to the child?” asked Uncle, a 
very stern look in his eyes. 

‘‘Well, now, I wouldn’t say they was jest 
crool to her,” he answered cautiously. “You 
know everybody has to work, — she as well as 
the rest of us.” 

“Yes,” agreed Uncle; “a reasonable amount 
of work won’t hurt her.” 

‘ ‘ But they do say, ’ ’ the man continued, ‘ ‘ that 
the woman’s jest plain mean to the little girl. 
An’ my woman thinks they do work her too 
hard for such a little pindlin’ thing. You see, 
she ain’t used to this cold country yet. She 
come to us a-cryin’ one day because the woman 
was cross to her, an’ she couldn’t please her 
no way. ’ ’ 

While they were speaking. Papa was seen 
returning from a day’s fishing up the stream, 
his creel hanging heavily from his shoulder. 


LITTLE FOLKS 


270 

and the green leaves peeping out of the hole in 
the top, telling that there had been a good 

catch/ ^ 

‘^Hi! How manyT^ shouted Uncle, as soon 
as he came within hearing, glad to change the 
subject to one less painful, now that he had 
learned what he feared to be the case. 

‘‘Gr-e-at sport answered Papa, with real 
sportsman ^s joy at a good day’s work. 

^‘Wait a moment and see his ‘catch’,” said 
Uncle to the young man, who had seized his 
hat and was starting away. 

“Sit down! Sit down!” cried Papa pleas- 
antly, as he set his creel down upon the table 
with a satisfied thump, and threw himself into 
an easy-chair. The youngsters crowded about, 
laying out and counting the trout. 

“One, two, three, four, five,” they chanted, 
as Bob held up each one to be admired. 

“Oh, a rainbow!” cried Marshall from his 
hammock. “What a beauty!” 

“One, two, three rainbows,” counted Bob. 
“Gee! Dad, this is a catch!” 

Thirty speckled and rainbow beauties lay 
among the green leaves, the bottom one weigh- 
ing a full pound and a quarter. 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING ayr 

^‘How^s that for a catch T’ laughed Papa, 
with a true sportsman’s pride. 

‘‘That’s great,” said the farmer, grinning 
good-naturedly. And then the usual questions 
followed. “ Where ’d you catch ’em? Bait or 
flies?” 

“Flies,” was Papa’s indignant reply to the 
last question ; ‘ ‘ every single one of ’em. ’ ’ Then 
came the usual stories of how “this one swal- 
lowed the fly,” — a very painful experience, 
Elizabeth thought, who had once choked on a 
fish-bone, — and how “this fellow fought”; 
“hooked this one in the tail,” and so on. To 
all of which Uncle and the visitor listened eag- 
erly, while Mamma and Aunty put the trout 
away. 

“They’re fine fish,” the man repeated, as he 
started on his way. 

“Vose aren’t fish,” corrected James firmly, 
peeping shyly from behind his father’s chair. 
“Vose are trouts,'' 

“Oh, that reminds me, youngsters,” said 
Papa, laughing, and rising from his chair. “I 
brought something home for you. And now 
we’ll find out how much our wise uncle really 
knows about birds.” And thrusting his hand 


LITTLE FOLKS 


272 

deep down in his slicker’^ pocket, he brought 
up three fluttering, squawking, half-fledged 
birds. 

‘‘What in the name of reason?’^ cried Mar- 
shall. 

“Oh, what are theyT^ cried the other children 
in one voice. 

“No, I won’t tell,” laughed Papa. “Ask 
your uncle.” 

“Bet you don’t know,” grinned Eob saucily 
to his father. 

“They’re young hawks,” said Uncle 
promptly. “That’s easy. Give me a harder 
one next time. We have just been talking about 
them. These are sparrow-hawks.” 

“Oh, can’t we keep themU’ wailed Caroline, 
who had understood a part of the talk with the 
young man. “Will they eat up his chickens?” 

“No, I think not,” answered Uncle to her 
last question. “These are very pretty birds, 
and while they may occasionally eat young 
birds, their food is almost entirely made up of 
field-mice and grasshoppers. ’ ’ 

“Oh, then we may keep them, mayn’t we?” 
cried Elizabeth, clapping her hands gayly. 

“I’ll catch all ve sippersops for ’em,” prom- 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 273 

ised Jamcis, using their baby name for grass- 
hoppers. 

‘‘Ill help!^^ shouted Sherburne. 

“You may try/’ said Uncle, “though I doubt 
if you can raise them. And, I warn you, they’ll 
eat a lot.” 

“The more mice the merrier,” laughed 
Aunty. 

“A man up the river shot the old birds,” 
said Papa. “And I begged these of him. I 
knew you and the kids would like to have them. 
And, besides, they looked so helpless! I didn’t 
like to leave them to starve. ’ ’ 

The young farmer flushed redder than his 
sunburn at Papa’s innocent words, hearing in 
them a rebuke that was not intended. And 
every child’s eye was upon him, as if to say, 
“You see how cruel you men are.” 

“Good-by,” he said hastily, and awkwardly 
crushed his big straw hat tightly down upon 
his forehead. “I’ll remember what you said, 
sir, an’ the wife’ll be glad to know you ain’t 
killin’ the birds.” 

“Why didn’t you go for him. Uncle?” asked 
Rob indignantly, when the man was out of hear- 
ing. 


274 


LITTLE FOLKS 


‘‘Because he was too wise/’ said Mamma 
gently, patting Rob’s flushed cheek. 

“If Uncle had lost his temper, the man would 
have been angry and offended, and no good 
whatever could have been accomplished. As it 
was. Uncle taught him a valuable lesson.” 

“Besides,” said Uncle, “he did it in utter 
ignorance. I have no patience whatever with 
those men who used to send other men out to 
slaughter the beautiful egrets for their plum- 
age, killing them by the thousands, till the 
ground must have been red with their blood. 
They could get the feathers in their perfect 
beauty only during the breeding-season. So 
they would send men into the woods to kill the 
birds when the nests were full of helpless young. 
Then they would knock down or shoot the par- 
ent-birds, and tear away the skin on which the 
beautiful white feathers grew, throwing down 
the body, still warm, after their horrid work — 
sometimes, alas ! still quivering with a spark of 
life! Many times, indeed, it was the tearing- 
off of the skin that killed the poor, tortured 
creatures. Then the men would go away, leav- 
ing the young birds to starve in the nests, call- 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 275 

ing piteously and vainly to the parent-birds ly- 
ing dead there in sight! Indeed, I am not at 
all sure that some of this work is not still done 
in places.’^ 

‘T'll never wear a feather again, cried 
Elizabeth; ‘‘not even a chicken-feather!’’ she 
declared. 

“Here! Here! What have I done?” cried 
Uncle. For James’s eyes were full of tears, 
and Sherburne had thrown himself face down 
upon the ground, to shut out the sight of the 
little dead birds that too well illustrated Un- 
cle’s little talk, 

“I think we have had enough lessons for to- 
day,” he continued, perching a twin upon each 
shoulder and galloping madly about the din- 
ing-taible. 

“You boys hunt up an old chicken-coop from 
some of these farmers around here,” he di- 
rected, with what breath he had left when he 
had finished his gallop, “and nail chicken- wire 
over it, and it will make a good cage for your 
hawks for the present. We’ll try to raise them, 
at least. But they are so wild I don’t know 
how they will stand confinement.” And he 


276 TRAMPING AND CAMPING 

tumbled a twin into the hammock on either side 
of Marshall, who promptly tumbled them out 
upon the ground. In how many such little 
ways Marshall showed his rapidly returning 
strength ! 


CHAPTER XX 


LOST-A PICNIC 

“He laughs by the summer stream, 

Where the lilies nod and dream, 

As through the sheen of water cool and clear. 

He sees the chub and sunfish cutting sheer. 

His are resplendent eyes. 

His mien is kingliwise.” 

One day in July, when the novelty of camp- 
life had nearly worn out, yet no one wished for 
the city. Uncle and Papa rowed the whole fam- 
ily down the stream a few miles for an all-day 
picnic in the Black Woods. This forest was 
forbidden territory to the children, for it was 
very dense and wild. Uncle had penetrated its 
depths and discovered many of its secrets, 
among them this ideal picnic-ground on the 
river-bank. The forest was so dark and dense 
that, when they arrived. Uncle said that the 
children must keep within sight of the stream 
in making their explorations. 

It was a warm day, and they spent it in quiet 
ways. Papa, always an ardent sportsman, 
277 


LITTLE FOLKS 


278 

fished almost all day, and toward tea-time was 
still far down the stream. Aunty wandered off 
with the camera, and Mamma sat by Marshall’s 
hammock, where he rested, watching the chil- 
dren at their games. Anne’s aunt had been 
persuaded to allow the child to join the merry 
party, and she was enjoying every moment in 
her quiet way. She drank in Uncle ’s stories of 
birds and woodland secrets with shining eyes, 
seldom speaking, but, when questioned, answer- 
ing intelligently. 

In the afternoon, when the children were so 
full of a picnic-luncheon that they needed urging 
to play. Uncle, always watchful of the birds, 
pointed out to them a kingfisher, perched upon 
a snag in the river, patiently seeking his prey. 
The children watched him with keen interest. 

His beautiful dress of bluish gray shone, 
freshly washed in the sun. His huge beak and 
head, with crest erect, his funny small body and 
feet, and his bobbed-off tail, made him appear 
unbalanced, and as if, at any moment, he might 
pitch headforemost from the snag. And so he 
did, but not unbalanced. Quicker than the eye 
could follow his motions he dived into the water, 
and rose almost immediately with a fish in his 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 279 

beak. Instead of returning to his perch to de- 
vour it, however, he flew away with the feast. 

“Ah, so you have a home about here,’’ cried 
Uncle well pleased; “and Madam Kingfisher, 
and possibly little Kingfishers, whom you have 
gone home to feed. His nest will be a hole in 
the river-bank, high enough to prevent wash- 
outs in high water, and tunneled far back. Kid- 
dies. I’ll give a new bird-book to the one of 
you who finds it.” 

Off went the children, eager for the prize and 
the glory of capturing it. Up and down the 
stream they searched. Time after time the 
bird came back to his perch, and time after 
time flew away with a prize, the little folks in 
hot pursuit. At six o’clock, at Mamma’s call, 
they gathered together for tea, the bird’s secret 
still undiscovered. Marshall was growing 
tired, and soon after tea. Uncle decided that he 
would better take him with Mamma back to 
camp ahead of the others, several of whom were 
again hunting the bird’s nest. So, calling to 
Rob that they were going, he and Mamma, Mar- 
shall, and Caroline boarded the boat. 

“May I go, tool” asked Anne, as they were 
about to start. “I think Aunt ’Liza will be 


280 


LITTLE FOLKS 


looking for me, and Baby likes to have me put 
him to bed, ^ ^ she explained. 

‘‘Sure,’’ said Uncle pleasantly, and helped 
her aboard. 

‘ ‘ Where are the twins 1 ^ asked Mamma 
anxiously, as she seated herself. 

‘ ‘ They are with Aunty, ’ ’ answered Caroline. 

‘‘When were they with herU^ questioned 
Mamma, as the boat glided out into the stream. 

“Oh, a while ago,’’ answered Caroline, al- 
ways vague as to time. 

“Eob,” shouted Uncle, “we’re going. Tell 
the others where we are. You’d better not 
search much longer for the nest.” 

“All right,” answered Rob, in a disappointed 
tone, secretly determining to come back to- 
morrow and find that nest, and not noticing 
who were aboard the boat, for he was very busy 
just then cutting his way through a tangle of 
blackberry bushes. 

“You mustn’t stay late on account of the 
twins,” called Mamma, as the boat rounded a 
curve and was out of sight. But Rob, busily 
peering behind some bushes, that hung over the 
bank, did not hear all of her last words. 

A quarter of an hour later the rest of the 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 281 


party, except the twins, met at the picnic- 
grounds, ready to start back to camp. 

Where is Mamma? called Papa from the 
boat, as he drew up to the bank, asking a man^g 
inevitable first question. 

^^Gone on ahead, answered Rob. ‘‘Marsh 
was tired, and they thought theyM better go. 
Uncle said weM better stop hunting pretty 
soon.’’ 

“Yes, indeed,” agreed Papa. “It begins to 
look stormy, too.” And he pointed toward the 
west, where a heavy cloud hid the sunset. 

“Who went with Mamma, Rob?” questioned 
Aunty. 

“Why, Marsh and Caroline and Uncle,” 
answered Rob a little doubtfully. 

“What about the twins?” asked Aunty 
sharply. 

“They were with ’em,” said Rob carelessly, 
beginning to load the boat with cushions and 
other picnic necessaries. 

“Are you sure?” persisted Aunty anxiously. 

“Why, yes,” was the confident answer. “I 
couldn’t see very well, but I heard Caroline 
talking, and I heard Mamma say something 
about the twins. They’re with ’em all right.” 


282 LITTLE FOLKS 

''Pile in. All aboard!^’ cried Papa from the 
boat. 

"I feel a little anxious,’’ said Aunty, hesi- 
tating. "Do you know Elizabeth, whether the 
twins were with Mammal” 

"I sent them back to her an hour ago,” an- 
swered Elizabeth confidently. "They couldn’t 
keep up with us, and I didn’t want to be both- 
ered with them. Anne ’s wraps are gone. She 
must have gone with Mamma, and the twins 
have tagged at her heels all day.” 

"Oh, they’re all right,” said Papa, with a 
man’s usual confidence and impatience. 

"Mamma would never have gone without 
them, so near their bedtime. Come on. It’s 
going to rain.” And hurrying them into the 
boat. Aunty still anxiously looking back, he be- 
gan swiftly rowing toward camp. 

When they had gone but a mile, however, 
they met the others returning. The twins be- 
ing with neither party, explanations quickly 
followed. Mamma had grown anxious about 
the little ones, and Marshall begged Uncle to 
turn back. 

It was quickly decided that Papa and Rob 
should return at once to the picnic-grounds and 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 283 

begin the search for the boys, while Uncle 
rowed the rest of the party back to camp. 
When they reached the little dock on Mr. 
Peake ^s land Uncle stopped long enough to al- 
low Anne to jump ashore. She would let no 
one accompany her to the house, and, as it was 
only a few yards away, bidding her to make 
haste. Uncle pulled out into the stream again. 
But wise little Anne had a plan of her own in 
her head. Running swiftly toward the house, 
she gave a low, whistling call. In a moment 
old Trumps, a beautiful shepherd dog, came 
crawling out of the smoke-house, stretching and 
yawning, his feathery tail thumping the ground 
as he crouched at her feet in lazy good nature. 
‘‘Oh, Trumps,’’ she whispered, “you’ve got to 
help to-night ’ ’ ; and the old dog licked her hands 
as she patted his cold nose. Searching in the 
smoke-house, she found an old lantern and some 
matches. Coming out of the darkness, she was 
surprised to find how light it still was outside. 
Then, remembering that she was in the northern 
part of our country, where the sun does not set 
in July until near nine o’clock, she hastened 
thankfully down to the dock. Her aunt’s light 
row-boat, in its usual place at the dock, lay 


284 LITTLE FOLKS 

almost motionless in that calm that precedes 
a storm. Old Trumps had ridden in the boat 
many times, and at her command he lay quietly 
down in the bottom. Anne had learned to row 
only that summer, but the river was so very 
small, one could not go far astray ; and, as she 
wished to go down-stream, she could at least 
drift. 

So bravely she set forth, and in a very 
short time she and Trumps leaped ashore at 
the picnic-grounds. No one was there. Papa 
and Kob were searching the woods. The rain 
was now falling and the wind was beginning to 
blow, but under the dense forest-trees the 
ground was not yet wet. For a few moments 
Anne stood wondering how she was to give 
Trumps the scent. Then, remembering that the 
twins had spent a large part of the day in a 
swing Papa had hung for them, she quickly 
ran to the spot, with Trumps at her heels. It 
was sucli a very small swing that only the twins 
had cared to use it, and, yes, in the gathering 
darkness their little footprints could be dimly 
seen all around the spot. A few drops of 
rain fell on Anne’s head. 

‘‘Oh, Trumps! Trumps!” she gasped in a 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 285 

panic, and, grasping the dog by one ear and his 
collar, she thrust his nose roughly down in the 
dirt. Trumps immediately resented this un- 
usual treatment, and, sneezing violently from 
the dirt in his nose, pulled himself out of her 
hands. 

‘‘Oh, Trumps! Trumps !” she sobbed. “Good 
dog! Find ’em! Find those dear babies for 
me. Trumps! Oh, please!” But Trumps did 
not understand this either, and he only looked 
at her with his big soft eyes, and wagged his 
tail patiently. 

Then, suddenly remembering some words her 
uncle used one day when showing off the dog’s 
accomplishments, she grasped his collar again, 
and, more gently this time, forced his nose down 
to the little foot-prints, saying, as she did so, 
“Search, Trumps! Search!” Trumps imme- 
diately began to run about, his nose close to the 
ground. Anne stood watching him, her breath 
coming in short gasps, her eyes wide with fright 
and anxiety. Suddenly the dog caught up 
something in his teeth and bounded trium- 
phantly toward her. It was Sherburne’s little 
cap that he had found. 

“Oh, Trumps! Good dog!” sobbed Anne; 


286 


LITTLE FOLKS 


and, pressing the cap to his nose, ‘‘Search! 
Search! Search!’’ she cried wildly. Away 
went Trumps again obediently. The ground 
was becoming wet now and rain was pouring. 

“0 dear! 0 dear! Is the scent all wash^ed 
away?” Anne sobbed, as the dog ran around 
and around in ever-widening circles, she follow- 
ing. at his heels. Suddenly, to her great joy, 
he bounded away into the woods. Never think- 
ing of fearing the great dark forest, Anne fol- 
lowed. She was forced to run now to keep the 
dog in sight, as he loped steadily along through 
the woods. Now and then he would pause for 
a moment, nosing about, where one little pair 
of feet, perhaps, had wandered apart from the 
others. Then, the trails uniting again, he 
would bound swiftly ahead. 

The storm increased in fury. A tree crashed 
dovm in the forest; the thunder rolled. Anne, 
pale to the lips, shuddered as she thought of the 
helpless babes alone in the storm. Now and 
then, between the crashes of thunder, she 
thought she heard Papa’s or Uncle’s voice call- 
ing the names of the twins farther back in the 
forest, and she tried to answer them, but in her 
breathless condition her voice could not be heard 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 287 

far above the noise of the storm. On and on she 
went, nntil she wondered if Trumps could be 
mistaken in thinking that those little feet could 
have wandered so far. 

Immediately after tea the twins had renewed 
their search for the kingfisher’s nest, looking in 
most impossible places, or tagging at the heels 
of the older children. 

‘‘Wait, Elizabuf,” begged James, for perhaps 
the twentieth time. 

And Elizabeth, her patience fast ebbing away, 
exclaimed, “Oh, Jimmie, you and Sherburne run 
back to Mamma ! ’ ’ 

“Don’t want to,” said Master James, scowl- 
ing fiercely. “We want to find the nest!” 

“You’re too little,” argued Elizabeth. 

“We’re not!” cried James, offended, and 
growing angry. 

“Go back! Please do!” begged Elizabeth. 
‘ ‘ That ’s a good boy. Do. ’ ’ 

James only kicked at the dirt stubbornly with 
the toe of his boot, but Sherburne, who had a 
quite remarkable gift for finding his way in 
strange places, pulled his sleeve and whispered 
something to him. 


288 


LITTLE FOLKS 


‘^Come on/’ he said, ^‘an’ we’ll perten’ to go 
back, an ’ when we get in the woods where she 
can’t see us we’ll run fast, an’ then we’ll come 
back to the river, an ’ when ’Liz ’buf comes we ’ll 
be there! I don’t never get losted, you know. 
An’ we’ll s ’prise her.” This plan sounds 
r-ather vague, but to his twin it was clear 
enough. They would follow the river, but from 
farther back in the woods, where they could not 
be seen by Elizabeth, and surprise her at last by 
coming out on the stream farther up. 

To Elizabeth’s satisfaction they trudged 
off toward the picnic-grounds. “That’s good 
boys,” she cried. “Buffy will give you some 
candy when we get back to camp.” 

Hand in hand they stumbled along, and after 
half an hour Sherburne thought that they might 
venture down to the stream again. But alas! 
without cause or explanation, at least to the 
twins, the river had traitorously turned in its 
course half a mile back, and, though the little 
ones turned in the right direction, the river was 
not to be found. They searched cheerfully for 
another half-hour. Then James began to be 
discouraged. 

But, Sherburne with supreme confidence in 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 289 

his ability to ^‘find his way/^ assured James 
that they would ‘‘dust go back the way they had 
comeJ’ So back they turned, but now their 
little heads were thoroughly muddled, their lit- 
tle legs very, very weary. 

“It^s lost!^^ wailed Jimmie. “Ve picnic ^s 
lost!’’ 

“And Mamma, too,” said Sherburne with 
trembling lips. “I’m ’fraid they’re all lost!” 

“And all gone home and left us!” sobbed 
James, now really crying. 

“Don’t cry,” begged Sherburne, the tears 
running down his own cheeks. “ We ’ll find ’em. 
Do tome,” he begged. And they dragged their 
tired legs a little farther. 

At last they dropped down upon a grassy 
spot. “ We ’ll never see ’em any more ! ’ ’ sobbed 
one. 

“I’m ’fraid ve bears’ll come an’ eat us!” 
wailed the other. 

“It’s getting awful dark,” said Sherburne, 
sinking his voice to a whisper. And shudder- 
ing, they clasped their arms around each oth- 
er’s necks. Suddenly a vivid flash of lightning 
lit up the woods. 

“I fink I saw ve river!” cried James, spring- 


290 


LITTLE FOLKS 


ing to his feet, and together they half ran, half 
tumbled down the steep bank. Sure enough! 
Here it was 1 And the children fairly squealed 
with delight, for, in their innocent ignorance, 
they thought that the boats must pass there, 
going back to camp. It was not so dark here, 
either, as it was in the woods. 

And, wonderful to tell, here was a hole in the 
bank that looked just as Uncle had said the king- 
fisher’s nesting-hole must look. And while they 
were peering into the hole, they heard a strange 
rattling noise overhead, just such as Uncle had 
said the kingfisher might make. They started 
back, forgetting their fears for a moment, and 
hiding themselves behind a bush, they watched 
the funny bird as he scuttled pigeon-toed into 
the dark hole, safe at home with wife and ba- 
bies, ahead of the storm. This little incident 
over, the twins noticed that it was growing very 
dark, even down here, and the lightning was 
more and more vivid. Now the thunder began 
to rumble threateningly, and the lonely babes 
in the wood” clung frantically to one another. 
Poor, unhappy little fellows! The four brief 
years of their little life had been so protected ! 
Thunder might roll, and lightning flash, but in 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 291 

mother arms one shut one^s eyes, and away it 
all went, while one sailed safely away into 
dream-land. But here, all alone in the dark! 
‘‘Oh, Mamma! Mamma!’’ they wailed in 
terror. 

“Let’s say our prayers,” said Sherburne at 
last, and turning, as bigger children turn every 
day, in desperation to their God, they knelt 
there in the mud. With the rain beating down 
on their baby heads, and with absolute faith 
that He who would note the wee bird’s fall, 
would surely hear their cry, they lisped the 
Lord’s Prayer. When they had finished they 
crept close to one another, the tears on their 
baby cheeks mingling as they lay awaiting the 
Divine answer. 

“I wish I was in my mamma’s house,” wailed 
James, as he thought of his cozy bed at home. 

“I wish I was in my mamma’s hed/^ sobbed 
Sherburne; and the two clung wildly together. 
Close under the bank the overhanging bushes 
protected them somewhat from the fury of the 
storm, as it came from that direction. But they 
were already quite drenched and shivering with 
the cold, and wished that they could creep into 
the kingfisher’s hole, from where, as the fury 


292 


LITTLE FOLKS 


of the storm grew less, they could hear an occa- 
sional sleepy peep from a restless baby bird dis- 
turbed by the storm. The rain ceased at last, 
and only the distant thunder rumbled, and the 
distant lightning played about the horizon. 

The children, chilled through, were growing 
sleepy. Suddenly they were aroused by a 
crashing and scrambling on the bank above their 
heads, as if some wild animal had come bound- 
ing through the forest. In terror greater than 
the storm had aroused in them, they clung fran- 
tically to each other, aiid crouched close up 
against the wet and muddy bank. 

^ Tt ’s a bear ! ’ ’ shrieked Sherburne. 

‘T fink it^s a microbe/^ cried James, wild 
with terror. 

With a yelp of joy, the great beast leaped 
quite over their heads, and came crashing down 
at their feet. There he crouched, barking and 
whining, and licking the tears from their cold 
cheeks. In a moment they recognized dear old 
Trumps, with whom they were well acquainted, 
and throwing their arms about his neck, they 
hugged his head and kissed his cold black nose. 

In a few moments Anne, frightened and 
scratched, came stumbling and falling through 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 293 

the bushes. Gathering the two little runaways 
and the old dog in her arms, she told the little 
ones how she had come there, and assured them 
that Trumps would take them safely back to 
home and their mothers. In a few moments 
they all crawled stiffly out from under the bank 
and climbed up to higher ground. Old Trumps 
gave himself a mighty shake, and then started 
off on his second journey. He was in a great 
hurry to get home now, and it was all the tired 
children could do to keep up with him. Urging 
the twins to call Uncle, Papa, and Rob, Anne 
cried ‘‘Found and “Help!^^ as loud as she 
could, in her childish voice. Suddenly Trumps 
began to bark, and in a few minutes the twins 
were gathered into the arms of Uncle and Papa. 

“And where did you come fromP’ gasped 
Uncle, giving Anne a little shake, and looking 
at her as if he saw a ghost. For had he not left 
her on the dock himself an hour ago? Anne 
quickly explained, and with a few words of the 
deepest gratitude, which brought the hot 
blushes to her cheeks, they wrapped her snugly 
in blankets and helped her into her own boat, 
in which Papa rowed her safely home. 

That night as Uncle brought warm drinks to 


294 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 


the twins ^ bedside, where Mamma and Aunty 
had tucked them up warm and dry, Jimmy 
looked up drowsily to say, ‘^We found ve 
nest. Uncle. 

^‘We bof found it,’^ corrected Sherburne. 
‘‘How will you Vide the bookU’ 

“There’ll be two books,” laughed Uncle, as 
he patted the two heads, thinking how thankful 
they should be that both were there; “and a 
great big juicy bone for old Trumps!” 

“And what for Anne?” asked a sleepy voice. 

She found us,^^ 

“We’ll see,” was all he answered. 


CHAPTER X:^I 


HUMMING-BIKDS’ HOME LIFE 

‘‘Is it a monster bee? 

Or is it a midget bird? 

Or yet an air-bom mystery, 

That now yon marigold stirred; 

And now on vocal wing 

To a neighbor bloom has whirred 
In an airy ecstasy, in a passion of pilfering? 

Ah! ’Tis the humming-bird. 

Rich-coated one. 

Ruby-throated one.” 

Noon always found a merry little party gath- 
ered about the long dining-table. Marshall 
could join the happy circle, and no one but an 
invalid knows how that sharpens the appetite. 
His cheeks were growing less hollow every day, 
and the old sad, weary look in his eyes had 
given place to a happy light that never waned. 
Mamma’s heart was so full of thanksgiving 
that she never guessed that her own cheeks 
were growing round and rosy as her daughter’s. 
Indeed, the abundance of fresh air and sunshine 
was doing its good work for each one. The 
295 


296 LITTLE FOLKS 

twins raced about over the land from morn- 
ing till night, their bodies plump and their skin 
as brown as an Indian ^s. 

^‘Any man could stand a sedentary life if he 
had my office,’^ said Uncle one day, as he rose 
from his ‘‘desk,^’ to answer the ever- welcome 
call to dinner. His ‘‘desk’^ was only a stump 
over which he had nailed a top of broad, flat pine 
boards. Underneath was a deserted woodpeck- 
er ’s hole, where he stored his letters. Here he 
would write by the hour, gleaning information 
at his very door. 

As they were all sitting about the table, 
James, deftly stripping the bones from his 
trout, said in his quaint, drawling way, ‘^Bugs 
have nestses and lay eggses.’^ 

‘ ^ What ! ’ ^ cried Eob, with elder-brotherly su- 
periority. ^^No, they don’t! Just listen to 
that, Uncle!” 

^'They do, too!” cried Sherburne, forgetting 
his shyness, in his indignation at hearing his be- 
loved twin ridiculed. ‘‘They do, too!” he re- 
peated. “We saw ’em, we did!” While little 
James shrank into his chair, overwhelmed with 
embarrassment. 

“Yes, some do, Eob,” said Uncle. “Have 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 297 

you forgotten that ants’ nest that I showed 
you!” 

^‘Vese wasn’t vose ants,” said James, recov- 
ering confidence at Uncle ’s words. 

‘^Vese was a big beetle. I’ll show you his 
nest after dinner.” 

The meal finished, the children and Uncle 
started upon their quest. James led them to a 
tree near the river-bank, across the grove from 
their camp. Plere he stopped and pointed to a 
little lichen-covered lump on a low branch of 
the tree. 

‘ Tt ’s only a knot after all ! ” cried Elizabeth, 
much disappointed, as Rob reached up to pull 
down the branch. 

‘ ^ Be careful ! ’ ’ cried Uncle. ‘ ‘ Don ’t touch it, 
Rob! Look again. Look closely.” 

‘^Why, it is a nest!” cried Anne, who was 
with them, and who was using a glass from a 
little distance. ' ‘ Of all the funny kinds ! Why 
it looks just like it grew on the tree, and it’s 
beautiful ! ’ ’ 

‘Tt does indeed look so,” said Uncle, ‘^and I 
wonder that the twins ever discovered it. ’ ’ 

^‘We saw the muvver-bug,” said James 
gravely. 


298 LITTLE FOLKS 

‘‘You will soon see that it belongs to a ruby- 
throated humming-bird/^ said Uncle, smiling. 
‘ ‘ The male bird has a ruby-red collar, or rather 
throat. That is what gives him that part of 
his long name. The mother-bird did all that 
beautiful work without any help from her hus- 
band. She isn^t at home just now, so we may 
take a peep at her nursery.’^ So saying he 
lifted the twins up on his shoulders, that they 
might have a good look at the wee, squeaking 
mites in the nest, not any bigger than large 
blue-bottle flies. 

“It isn’t birds,” cried Sherburne, more than 
ever convinced of it, now that he saw the baby 
birds. ‘ ‘ There ’s two black bugs in there ! ’ ’ 

In fact, not until the exquisite little golden- 
green mother came home to her twins, and 
alighted upon the nest, were they convinced that 
she was other than a great buzzing beetle. She 
seemed not at all timid, but Uncle hid the chil- 
dren behind trees and bushes, that he might 
allow them to remain and see her feed the tiny 
creatures without frightening her. Settling 
herself upon the edge of the nest, the wee 
mother, in some unaccountable way, dragged 
one of the little ones to the top. Then, holding 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 299 

it securely there, while the children waited to 
see her put some bird titbit into the greedy 
month, she suddenly made a vicious stab down 
the youngster’s throat with her spear-like beak. 
At the first attack, as one might call it, Car- 
oline gave a little cry and rolled over on the 
grass, hiding her face in her hands, and implor- 
ing Uncle to ‘ ‘ Stop her ! Stop her ! She ’s kill- 
ing them!” 

‘‘Oh, how awful!”* cried Anne, shuddering. 
And as the mother-bird made stab after stab 
into the helpless little creatures, she too turned 
away her head, quite unable to witness this 
“Slaughter of the Innocents,” as she believed 
it to be. 

Elizabeth peeped out from behind her Uncle, 
ready to hide her eyes at a moment’s notice. 
Rob even sent anxious glances at his Uncle, won- 
dering why he did not interfere. The twins 
alone stared in open-mouthed wonder. 

And Uncle, shaking with laughter, sat down 
upon a log, and, taking the twins upon his knees, 
explained to the shocked little party that, al- 
though the performance is not a pleasant one to 
see, it is the usual way that the humming-bird 
mother feeds her young, by injecting the food 


300 


LITTLE FOLKS 


that she has already partly digested for them, 
into their stomachs. 

‘‘They never seem to mind it at all, as you 
see,’’ he said, “though she really seems to stab 
quite through their wee bodies. ’ ’ 

“If her beak only hadn’t been so long,” 
Elizabeth said, when, the performance over, 
they watched the beautiful little creature dart 
from flower to floAver, her wings vibrating with 
inconceivable rapidity, as she hung above the 
blossoms, her golden-green body glistening like 
metal in the sun. “If it hadn’t been so awful 
long, I wouldn’t have minded, but I thought 
every minute that she would fly away with one 
of her babies sticking on her beak.” 

The children were sorry to leave after watch- 
ing her for half an nour, but Uncle assured 
them that if she was not frightened, she would 
remain about there for two or three weeks, and 
they might see her every day. 

The last of July, in the northern part of our 
country, finds most of our birds teaching their 
young to fly; or, if sitting, it is to hatch the 
second or third brood. Here and there we find 
a bird is always late about housekeeping af- 
fairs, generally for the simple reason that she 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 301 

comes north late, as that is the time when the 
food that she prefers will be most plentiful. 
Such is the case with the beautiful little pair, 
Mr. and Mrs. Goldfinch, who flit gayly about 
until late June or July, before they settle down 
to housekeeping. 

‘^Here is some kind of a sparrow,’’ said Rob, 
later that afternoon, pulling down a long, 
willowy branch, that he might peep into a little 
nest. As he spoke, a beautiful black-and-gold 
bird flew about his head, making sudden little 
dashes at him, as if about to snatch out his 
eyes. 

‘^What are you making such a fuss about, 
Mr. Goldfinch?” he said, ducking his head to 
avoid the sharp beak, and letting the branch 
swing gently back. ^^This is none of your af- 
fair.” 

‘‘Are you quite sure of that?” called Uncle, 
who was some distance away. “I thought so,” 
he said, as he turned his glass that way. 
“Why, Rob, did you expect little Madam Gold- 
finch to dress in such bright clothes as those 
her husband wears, when she has such precious 
treasures to protect? If she did that, she 
would attract every boy, hawk, and snake to 


302 


LITTLE FOLKS 


her treasure-house. That greenish-brown bird 
above you is the rightful lady of the house, 
Madam Goldfinch.’’ 

‘‘Why, she looks just like the goldfinches we 
saw in the winter,” cried Elizabeth. “Were 
they all females?” 

“No,” said Uncle, “they were not. In the 
winter Mr. Goldfinch puts on a suit like his 
wife ’s. You must not be like ‘ Freckles, ’ in that 
beautiful story of Gene Stratton Porter’s, and 
try to drive away from the nest all birds unlike 
the one you have seen sitting there. You will 
find that the female indigo-bunting, towhee, 
bobolink, rose-breasted grosbeak, and others, 
look somewhat like English sparrows. And the 
female redstart, tanager, pine-grosbeak, cross- 
bill, oriole, and many others, while not like spar- 
rows, are very unlike the males. This, as I 
believe I have told you before, is called by the 
ornithologists, ‘protective coloration.’ Big 
words, eh, Twinnies?” But even Rob for a 
moment looked puzzled, as Uncle rolled forth 
the words so easily. “Well, they only mean 
that the colors of the female, being so much 
like the leaves, bark, and twdgs of the trees, or 
the ground and grasses about her, protect her 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 303 

from her enemies as she sits upon her nest. 
Sometimes it is very difficult, even for us who 
are accustomed to this, to discover the birds on 
their nests, they are so like their surroundings.’^ 
Uncle tried very hard to make his explanations 
so simple that even the twins could understand 
him. And, while much that he said was far 
beyond their understanding, still they were all 
unconsciously picking up here and there stray 
bits of information, and, best of all, learning to 
value and be gentle with all living things. It 
inspired confidence regarding their future lives. 

As they walked toward home, they paused to 
listen to some bobolinks that were fairly out- 
doing themselves in their bursts of merriment. 

‘‘How pretty they are!” cried Anne. “I 
neveh saw one befo’e! Why, they are upside- 
down birds. Most birds are light underneath 
and da’k above, and these are just the otheh 
way. And, oh, Buffy, do you see their little 
yellow colla ’s ? Aren ’t they just too cunning ? ’ 
“I think you have seen them before, Anne,” 
said Uncle, smiling. ‘ ‘ Have you never seen the 
rice-birds down south ? ” 

“Why, yes,” cried Arnie. “They kill them 
and sell them.” 


304 


LITTLE FOLKS 


‘‘Your rice-birds are our bobolinks in their 
winter plumage,’^ explained Uncle. 

‘ ‘ 0 deah ! ’ ’ cried Anne, really distressed. ‘ ‘ I 
think iUs dreadful to eat such deah little birds 
as these! I’m right glad I neveh touched 
them.” 

“I didn’t know they were so pretty,” ad- 
mitted Elizabeth. “And I’ve heard of them, 
and, I expect, seen them lots of times. I guess 
I didn ’t know much of anything about birds till 
Uncle came.” 

“Why, Uncle, they act just as if they were 
trying to be funny!” cried Rob. “I had some 
puppies once that acted just like them. They 
almost roll over like puppies.” 

“Indeed they do,” laughed Uncle. “The 
poets seem to like to write about them and their 
funny ways. But I will spare you any poetry 
just now, for I see Rob’s face growing long. 
Their song, though it is not beautiful like the 
thrush’s, is very attractive.” 

“They just love to sing, don’t they,” com- 
mented Caroline, watching them closely. 

“They certainly seem to,” answered Uncle, 
patting her touseled head. “Do any of you 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 305 

know that bird ? ’ ’ pointing to a bird perched on 
a fence-post and pouring out bis very heart in 
music. 

‘^That brown bird with a yellow vest and a 
black collar? I think I know him/’ Elizabeth 
spoke doubtfully. ‘Ts it the meadow-lark?” 

‘ ‘ It is, indeed, ’ ’ laughed Uncle. ^ ‘ W ell, well, 
I believe you children did know a robin, a blue- 
bird, and an English sparrow when I came, but 
that was about all,” he said in a whimsical 
tone. ‘‘For I do think, Elizabeth, you were 
very uncertain about little Mr. Meadow-lark.” 

A few rods farther on they came to the bush 
which held the treasures of the little field-spar- 
row. The twins had kept a faithful watch over 
the little family, reporting each day’s progress 
of the babies, and now, when they spied the 
bush, as usual they started to run ahead. But 
Rob was in a teasing humor, and grasped each 
child by the arm and held him back. 

“No! No!” he teased. “You can’t go! 
Walk along like little gentlemen with us now!” 

The boys struggled fiercely, half angry, but 
making an effort to control their tempers. 
“Come now,” he continued, enjoying his mis- 


LITTLE FOLKS 


306 

chief, ‘‘we are going this way,’’ and he at- 
tempted to pull the children along in another 
direction. 

Then the little boys grew angry. Naughtily 
they kicked at him, dusting his trousers until 
they were white, but he would not release his 
hold, laughing all the time, though the twins 
were now having a hard time to keep from cry- 
ing. 

But suddenly the tables were turned. Uncle, 
coming up behind them, caught Rob unexpect- 
edly by both arms, and made him release his 
hold. Then laughing, and without an etfort, 
threw him headlong into a ditch full of dusty 
weeds. 

With howls of triumph the twins bounded 
away. But their shouts were quickly changed 
to wails, for, as they approached the bush, a 
lean, gaunt cat slid silently from under it, and, 
running almost flat upon the ground, she quickly 
disappeared in a corn-field, licking her chops as 
she ran. 

About the bush flew the terrified little parent- 
birds, giving shrill cries of trouble. But, alas ! 
the little nest was empty ! A few bloody feath- 
ers were the silent witnesses of the tragedy. 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 307 

‘‘Oh, Rob, you wicked boy!’^ screamed Sher- 
burne, when he fully realized the extent of their 
loss — that their own little charges were gone, 
every one! Killed almost before their very 
eyes ! 

“If you hadn^t held us, we’d have got here 
in time to scare her away, and she wouldn’t have 
got our little birds!” and James in his anger 
again turned upon Rob. But Uncle quickly took 
him into his arms, and held him there until his 
anger dissolved in tears. And Rob, looking the 
picture of guilt, stood sullenly kicking the dust. 

“I didn’t know the ol’ cat was there,” was all 
he could say in excuse. “I didn’t want the 
birds killed any more’n you did!” And he 
threw a rock into the corn-field where the cat had 
disappeared. 

“Never mind,” said Uncle, trying to act as 
peacemaker, and comfort the little ones at the 
same time. “Rob did not know that the cat 
was there, and after she had once found the 
birds’ nest, I think she would have come back 
again and again until she got them. ’ ’ 

But the twins were sadly disappointed, and 
it was several days before they could pass the 
bush quite calmly. 


LITTLE FOLKS 


308 

Supper was upon the table, and the children’s 
tears had been but shortly dried, when a tall 
figure was seen coming through the grove, car- 
rying a basket. 

‘‘It’s our bird-man,” cried Elizabeth, as he 
drew near. 

‘ ‘ The one that brought the killded ones, ’ ’ ex- 
plained Sherburne. 

“It is, indeed,” said Uncle, rising to greet 
the visitor. “I didn’t think we’d see him 
again.” 

“What’s he got?” cried Caroline, in a stage 
whisper. 

“Good afternoon,” said Uncle pleasantly, 
with hand outstretched, as the man came awk- 
wardly, plainly deeply embarrassed, into their 
little group. 

“G ’daft ’moon,” he began. “I, um — my 
woman said” — Then, suddenly remembering 
his manners, he snatched his big hat off, and, 
dropping it upon the grass, began vigorously 
mopping his perspiring face with a huge red 
handkerchief. 

“Hot day,” remarked Uncle, pushing forward 
a chair. 

And Mamma hastened to the ice-box, return- 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 309 

ing with a big pitcher of lemonade, asking, as 
she gave him a brimming glass, ^^How is the 
baby ? Standing this hot weather pretty well ? ’ ^ 

‘ ‘ Fine ! Fine ! ^ ^ the man answered, his whole 
face shining with pride, — and perspiration. 
‘‘Weighs ten pounds already! I seen yonr 
children seemed so tickled with those hawks 
yonr man brnng ’em th’uther day,” he con- 
tinued, regaining his composure, “that I 
thought, or m ’woman did, mebbe they’d like a 
pet I brung home to her not long ago. Sence 
the boy come she ain’t been able to take very 
good care of it.” And, taking the top otf of 
the basket, he showed them, crouched down 
upon the bottom, his yellow eyes shining with 
fear, a half-grown crow. 

“Oh I Oh I Oh!” shouted the children in 
diiferent keys. Bob gave a long ishrill, ear- 
piercing whistle, while Sherburne turned a lop- 
sided somersault. 

When their noise had abated somewhat, Eliza- 
beth explained to the young farmer, her eyes 
shining with pleasure, her cheeks very red: 
“We’ve wanted one ever since last spring. We 
saw one out in the country.” 

“He was an awful fine one,” interrupted Bob. 


310 LITTLE FOLKS 

‘‘And smart! But 0 gee! How he would 
steal !^’ 

“Yes, they all do that, I reckon,’^ the man ad- 
mitted. 

“Ours won’t !^^ cried James indignantly, 
gently stroking the straggling black feathers 
backward. “Ours won’t be teached to steal.” 

“Maybe you can teach him to talk,” sug- 
gested Anne. “I’ve hea’d they can be taught 
to talk a little.” 

“Oh, can they. Uncle f” cried Bob, much ex- 
cited at the prospect. “You bet if they can be, 
I ’ll teach mine ! ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Yours ! Hm ! ’ ’ exclaimed Elizabeth. 

“I think we’ll call him Sherburne’s,” said 
Uncle kindly, “to make up to him for the little 
cedar ^bird, you know. But we can all enjoy 
him.” And as Sherburne shouted and turned 
many very lopsided somersaults. Uncle contin- 
ued, “I’m afraid you can’t teach him to talk, 
but crows are very smart, and you ought to be 
able to teach him a good many little things and 
find him very interesting.” 

“I’m afraid he’ll be worse than burglars,” 
sighed Mamma, when the giver had gone away 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 31 1 

well pleased, his ruddy face beaming with pleas- 
ure at the children ^s delight with his gift. 

^‘Yes,^^ laughed Aunty, ‘TVe always looked 
under my bed at night for burglars. Now I’ll 
have to look behind the curtains and in my 
waste-paper basket!” 

But the children were utterly happy, and the 
twins almost forgot their recent loss in the joy 
of the present moment. 


CHAPTER XXII 


NIGHT IN THE FOKEST 

forest arms the night will soonest creep, 

Where somber pines a lullaby intone, 

Where Nature’s children curl themselves to sleep. 

And all is still at last.” 

E. Pauline Johnson. 

After much coaxing for many days, the chil- 
dren succeeded in obtaining the permission of 
their parents to go at night into the Black For- 
est with Uncle, to study the night-birds. 

‘^What can you possibly see at night U’ ar- 
gued Mamma. 

^^Oh, we might possible see a hear/’ cried 
Caroline, much excited at the prospect. 

^‘Why, owls, Mumsy, and nighthawks, and, — 
and, ’ ’ Rob paused to tliink of another bird, and 
Elizabeth took up the sentence. 

‘^And whippoorwills. Mamma; and IVe never 
seen a whippoorwill. Not one of us has.’^ 

‘‘Nor ever will, I fancy,’’ laughed Mamma, 
who had always looked upon it as a fictitious 


312 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 313 

bird until she came up here, though really know- 
ing better. 

‘TCs as dry as, — as, — as dry,’^ pleaded 
Elizabeth, foreseeing a possible objection in the 
weather. ‘Tt just canH rain, and iPs so hot! 
Why we couldn’t take cold if we went in our 
nighties!” 

‘‘Are you sure that you want all of these lit- 
tle folks. Uncle?” Mamma appealed to that 
good-natured gentleman. 

“I shouldn’t have asked them, if I hadn’t 
wanted them,” was his answer. 

“Sometimes the asking comes from the other 
side, ’ ’ laughed Mamma, yielding slowly. 

“But not this time, it didn’t! Truly! 
Truly! Mamma!” cried Elizabeth, dancing up 
and down in her eagerness. 

“Honest truly, black and bluely,” chanted 
Caroline. 

“We-11, will you stick close to Uncle, Car- 
oline? Every minute?” 

“Oh, yes! yes! I promise! On my yonner. 
Mamma, ’ ’ she cried, trying to use a word of her 
big brother’s, and hugging her mother almost 
to suffocation in her eagerness, as she saw con- 
sent approaching. 




LITTLE FOLKS 


‘‘And Robert, will you take good care of 
Elizabeth? Keep her in sight every instant? 

“Hm! Hm!'^ sniffed Elizabeth, but only 
loud enough for her brother's ear. 

Rob looked very doubtful. ‘ ‘ She won’t listen 
to me. Mamma,” he complained. 

“Yes, I will this time, Rob,” cried Elizabeth, 
ready to promise anything to secure the coveted 
permission. “Now, Rob, you know you can go 
anyhow, even if you don’t take me, and I think 
it’s real mean” — 

“Tut! Tut!” cried Uncle, anxious to quell 
the storm of words he saw approaching. 
“Rob, Rob, where is your chivalry?” 

“Oh, all right,” said Rob, trying to speak 
pleasantly. “I’ll look after Buff,” and his 
breast swelled with pride, as he realized the 
trust Mamma was putting in him. “I’ll look 
after Buff,” he repeated, “but you keep Flan- 
nigan in sight.” The Irish name suited Car- 
oline, for she was sure to be “gone again” when 
wanted. 

So the matter was settled, and that night at 
nine o’clock, Elizabeth’s usual bedtime, they 
started upon their unusual excursion. The 
twins had pleaded long, but vainly, to be of 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 315 

the party. Wise parents could not be per- 
suaded by tears or even temper, a little of 
which, I am afraid, was nsed, that four-year- 
olds should be abroad at night. So, tucked up 
in their little beds, with eyes closed, pretending 
sleep, they listened to the departure of the 
others. 

“Don’t stay late,” called Aunty for per- 
haps the tenth time, as the shadows of the 
merry party mingled with the shadows of the 
trees in the wood, and they were really off, “to 
make a night of it,” Rob said. 

“Don’t go too deep into the Black Woods,” 
called Mamma’s voice from the dimly lighted 
tent, showing among the trees like some queer, 
huge ghost. “Remember they say that there 
are wild-cats in there, and I know that there 
are snakes Mamma’s pet horror was snakes, 
and her thrilling words sent delightful little 
chills tickling up and down the children’s 
spines, as they stumbled along, their eyes still 
unused to the darkness. 

They went first through their “own woods,” 
as they called the little grove in which their tent 
was pitched, emerging upon the other side in 
about half an hour. Here Anne met them, hav- 


LITTLE FOLKS 


316 

ing been invited especially by Uncle, and they 
all sat down upon the river bank, to rest and 
enjoy the starlight upon the water, while 
Uncle, by the aid of a little shaded electric dark- 
lantern, made a few notes. 

The woods were very still. A whip-poor-will 
called a long way otf, and was answered by sev- 
eral others. A tree-toad near by sung shrilly. 
The water lapped gently at their feet. The 
children's eye-lids drooped. Caroline's head 
dropped to her knees. Elizabeth, too drowsy 
to arouse her, leaned back against a tree and 
almost slept. Bob now and then tossed a peb- 
ble into the dark water, or yawned sleepily as 
he lay upon the ground, watching it creeping, 
creeping, ever creeping. His head bobbed for- 
ward and he sprang to his feet. He would 
surely go to sleep if he sat there any longer, 
and sleep he would not ! Not when he had been 
given charge of Elizabeth, and with Anne’s 
bright eyes to see him! Never! Had Uncle 
quite forgotten them, he wondered? 

Marshall seemed content to sit and slap the 
water with a little switch in lazy enjoyment. 
Perhaps Uncle was waiting to rest Marshall. 
Turning away from the creeping river, he stared 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 317 

back into the dark woods through which they 
had come. His sleepy eyes ached as they tried 
to penetrate the dark shadows. It looked very 
tame in there, and he wished Uncle would stop 
scribbling and come on to the Black Woods, 
where things might be more exciting. As he 
stared at the silent trees they seemed to become 
blurred and to run together. Pulling himself 
up with a start, he was astonished to find that, 
though he was standing leaning against a tree, 
he had actually slipped over the border-land of 
sleep. 

Throwing a swift glance at the others, to see 
if they had noticed his lapse, he stretched him- 
self and wandered a few yards into the woods. 
Nothing was stirring. The trees barely moved 
in the light breeze. 

Ah! Was that something white moving off 
there among the shadows? Yes. No. Yes, 
there it was again, coming toward him, — 
a shadowy white figure. These children had 
not been brought up on foolish ghost-stories, 
but they had made some acquaintance with them 
through old ’Merica. And I must admit that 
Rob did feel a thrill, half of pleasure, go 
through him, as some of her silly stories im- 


LITTLE FOLKS 


318 

mediately popped into his mind. But he ar- 
gued bravely with himself : 

^^It must be a calf, or else I was mistaken 
altogether, for I can’t see it now. I was awful 
sleepy,” and he peered sharply into the dark- 
ness. Ah, there it was again. Plainly some- 
thing was coming towards them. Turning back 
to tell Uncle, he found him just putting up his 
note-book, and trying to pull Caroline out of her 
dreams. 

‘‘I didn’t intend to stop so long,” he said to 
the sleepy girls, as they rubbed their stiifened 
arms and legs. 

‘^Come, we’ll race across the corn-field. It’s 
only ten o’clock after all.” 

Kob hesitated, wondering if it was necessary 
to mention what he had seen, as he could no 
longer see it, and Rob dreaded ridicule. As he 
stood undecided, kicking the pebbles about with 
his toe, a shrill squeal from Caroline brought 
them all to her side. 

‘^Here! Here!” cried Uncle. ‘‘This won’t 
do! You said you would not be afraid in the 
woods at night.” 

‘ ‘ There ’s something in ’em, ’ ’ cried the child. 
“Something ’at I didn’t espect.” 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 319 

As she spoke, an owl, flying low over his 
earthly dining-table, gave an awful shriek 
almost overhead. Caroline immediately echoed 
it, hiding her head in Elizabeth’s skirts. 

Almost at the same instant, to Uncle’s amaze- 
ment, came another cry of fright, like the cry of 
a child. Uncle’s thoughts flew to the several 
different wood-creatures that gave such a cry. 

‘‘What is it?” he said, peering somewhat 
anxiously into the shadowy woods. 

“I think,” said Rob, trying vainly to hide his 
nervousness, “there’s something white back 
there in the grove. I guess ’twas a cow, or — 
or something.” 

Uncle promptly tramped back into the woods, 
Caroline sticking to him like a little burr. 
Mamma need have no fear of her leaving him. 

“AVhat in the name of all that’s queer, is 
is ? ” he said wonderingly, as two bobbing, bow- 
ing figures approached him. “Is it a calf?” 

“It’s two of ’em!” exclaimed Anne, whose 
eyes were sharper than Uncle’s. 

“Two calves?” he said, as the cry was re- 
peated. 

“No, no!” chimed in Elizabeth, not in the 
least frightened. “Two something elses.” 


320 


LITTLE FOLKS 


‘TFs little ghostses/’ wailed Caroline, cling- 
ing to Uncle coat-tails so that he could 
scarcely walk. 

‘‘Caroline he said in a stem voice that she 
scarcely knew for Uncle ^s. “Stop that non- 
sense about ghosts!’’ 

Suddenly Elizabeth ran swiftly forward. 
“You naughty, naughty boys!” they heard her 
cry as she ran, stumbling and half falling in her 
haste. Catching the white objects by the shoul- 
ders, she shook them fiercely. 

“The twins!” gasped Uncle, hurrying to- 
ward them, Eob and Anne close behind him. 

Elizabeth was sitting flat upon the ground 
when they came up to her, the twins in her lap, 
while she scolded and cuddled them. 

“What shall we do with them?” she cried, as 
Uncle stood before them, dismay showing upon 
his face. “We can’t take them with us. 
They’re not dressed!” 

“Spank ’em!” said that good-natured man, 
this time more than a little provoked. “Why 
did you run away, you naughty boys?” he said 
sternly, to the now trembling little culprits, 
clothed only in white pyjamas and bed-room 
slippers. 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 321 

didn’t have time to dress,” stammered 
James, avoiding the main point, as he well 
knew. ’Lisbeth said folks couldn’t take cold, 
even in their nighties.” 

Elizabeth looked guilty. did. Uncle,” she 
said, blushing in the dark. 

^‘You knew you were being naughty,” cried , 
Rob. ‘T shouldn’t have thought you would 
have done this, after all the trouble you made 
before!” with very big-brotherly dignity. 

We ’ll not be trouble this time,” wailed 
Sherburne with quivering lip. ^ Wou said there 
wouldn ’t he any storm to-night ! ’ ’ 

^AYell, we’ll let your parents settle this,” 
said Uncle, mounting the two in their usual 
places upon his shoulders, his heart relenting, 
as he saw the pitiful little faces, and knew how 
disappointed they must be. For Uncle knew 
how hard it is sometimes to be ‘Too little.” 

“Don’t take us home,” begged James. 

“Oh, but I must do that,” said Uncle firmly. 

‘ ‘ Think how your poor mammas would worry. ’ ’ 
And he strode off toward camp. 

Before they had gone half-way, however, they 
met Papa and Aunty coming with old Dane, 
quite breathless and much excited. Uncle 


LITTLE FOLKS 


322 

gladly turned the little ones over to them, and 
Caroline, having seen quite all she wanted to of 
the forest at night, was glad to return with 
them. But Marshall, Kob, Elizabeth, and Anne 
turned back with Uncle, to finish their inter- 
rupted excursion. 

They followed the sandy shore of the river 
for a few rods, and then turned t^o wards the 
forest. As they were crossing a barren field, 
with many low, flat rocks scattered here and 
there, the children were startled by some rather 
large bird, which swooped down close to their 
heads, and, as quickly rising, disappeared in 
the woods not far away. 

‘‘A night-hawk,’’ said Uncle. ‘^Perhaps we 
shall see her again. ’ ’ 

It was not very dark here in the open pasture, 
and Uncle searched the ground with his eyes as 
they tramped along. Warning them to tread 
cautiously, he led them almost across the pas- 
ture, then stopped, and, pointing to a low, flat 
rock, he showed the children two tiny, fuzzy 
balls. It was some time before they could dis- 
tinguish the wee birds in the dim light, so like 
were they to their surroundings. 

‘‘Baby night-hawks,” whispered Uncle, and 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 323 

leading the children a little distance away, he 
hid them behind some bushes. 

Suddenly, from out of the dark forest, came 
softly rustling wings, and Mother Night-hawk 
settled dowm beside her little ones. She was at 
least ten inches long, and the children were 
sorry not to be able to see her coloring, and sur- 
prised to find how easily she might escape no- 
tice as she crouched there upon the ground. 
The baby mouths, or, as Rob said, ‘Hhe baby 
heads,’’ flew open at the instant of the mother’s 
approach. Indeed, they did seem to open their 
entire heads, their mouths were so enormous, 
and it gave them an utterly silly expression to 
sit there gaping for food. But Mother Night- 
hawk knew well how to fill them. She fed both 
babies from the abundance she carried in her 
mouth, for it is more like a mouth than a beak, 
and then flew away for more. 

Elizabeth was loath to leave the little crea- 
tures there all alone, for she was sure some- 
thing would get them. But it was growing late, 
and Uncle said they must hurry on. 

^ ‘ To-morrow, ’ ’ said he, ‘ ‘ I will show you the * 
night-hawk’s picture. She is no beauty, with 
her wide mouth and rather dull plumage, mot- 


324 


LITTLE FOLKS 


tied brown, gray, and black. But she is an in- 
teresting bird. She does not wander abroad so 
much at night as the whippoorwill does; but I 
have seen her flying around a city at night, and 
her eggs have been found upon the flat roofs of 
buildings. ’ ^ 

Another short walk and they entered the 
Black Woods. The forest was very dense, and 
the dark shadows of night made it seem even 
more thickly wooded than it really was. There 
was a thick undergrowth, and the trees were 
large and close together. The farmers said 
that a few deer might yet be found there, and 
that wild-cats were sometimes heard. They 
even whispered that wolves were even heard 
howling in the winter. Smaller animals, such 
as weasels, rabbits, and hares, were trapped 
there, and by the river were taken occasional 
otters and many muskrats. Some insisted that 
a lynx might sometimes be seen in the deepest 
part of the forest. 

Uncle had gone over the ground in the day- 
time, and had located several nests and points 
of interest which he wished to show to the chil- 
dren, and had marked a rough path for them 
to follow. Not wishing them to be frightened 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 325 

by any animal in search of a snpper, he kept 
his little charges close to him, and led them 
carefnlly. 

At first they skirted the edge of the forest, 
coming out in about half an hour upon the 
river bank again. Here they sat down for a 
few moments ’ rest, and here they had a delight- 
ful surprise ; for while they sat silently waiting, 
a beautiful doe and two exquisite fawns came 
stepping noiselessly out of the forest. The lit- 
tle party scarce dared to breathe, lest they make 
some noise that would frighten the timid crea- 
tures ; but, the wind being toward them, the deer 
drank their fill slowly, lifting their heads now 
and then as if to give thanks. They wandered 
slowly back into the woods, nibbling the under- 
growth as they went, all unconscious that the 
dreaded ‘ ^ man terror ’ had been so near. 

How fascinating it all was! The children 
lost all thought of sleep. Their nerves were 
tense. Uncle began to wonder if he ought to 
have brought them. But they were not fright- 
ened, only awed by this great, mysterious, un- 
known world, and deeply interested. 

The calls of the whippoorwills were becom- 
ing louder and more constant. Suddenly out of 


326 LITTLE FOLKS 

the blackness above them something dropped, 
with a strange whirring noise, almost at their 
feet, but, with a harsh cry, was up and away 
again almost instantly. On the ground, near 
where the bird had alighted. Uncle showed the 
children what they thought were two little white 
stones, but he assured them they were the eggs 
of a whippoorwill. 

Probably, he said, throwing his little elec- 
tric light upon them, ‘‘having seen us here, so 
near her eggs, she will carry them away in her 
mouth to some other place which she considers 
safer. Her mouth, too, is enormous, and is sur- 
rounded by stiff bristles, — ^very convenient for 
carrying eggs. She is not any prettier than the 
night-hawk, and, in fact, looks a good deal like 
her.’^ Once an owl swooped down without a 
sound, and, from under their very noses, or 
rather toes, snatched a wee struggling ground- 
squirrel. He sailed away to his home in a tree, 
and a little later Uncle showed them the balls of 
undigested bones, hair, etc., about the tree, 
where he had thrown it out of his stomach, when 
he had got all the good of the food, as is the way 
of owls. 

Elizabeth looked very much disgusted when 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 327 

Uncle explained this really sickening habit, and 
declared that she would never like owls again, 
and that she thought they ought to be taught 
to dress their game before eating it.’’ But 
when Uncle showed her, a little later, three 
funny-faced, feathery balls, sitting so solemnly 
all in a row on a branch, patiently waiting to be 
fed, she concluded that, rather than give up 
such cunning little creatures, she would endure 
their bad habits. 

At eleven o’clock they turned toward home, 
taking a different and shorter way through the 
woods. Elizabeth, stumbling sleepily along, 
was brought up wide-awake again, when a large 
snake slid silently across her very toes. 

^^Ah!” cried Uncle. ^‘We scared him away 
from his supper. See, here is a tiny whippoor- 
will. His brother is very likely in the snake’s 
stomach. I ’m glad that he at least missed get- 
ting one of them.” 

<<Why can’t all snakes be killed?” cried 
Anne, shuddering. ^ ^ They aren ’t good for any- 
thing!” 

‘^Oh, yes,” said Uncle, always ready to de- 
fend his beloved woods-people ; ^They aren’t al- 
together bad. But I do think that they are 


LITTLE FOLKS 


328 

more generally hated than any living creature. 
Some day I will teach you something about 
them. ^ ^ 

A rustling in the adjacent bushes just then at- 
tracted their attention. Uncle went cautiously 
forward, motioning the children behind him, 
where they waited, half -trembling with excite- 
ment, while Rob could not refrain from pushing 
just a little ahead. 

And Marshall said, with all a big brother’s 
dignity, ‘‘You children stay close to me.” 

It was delightfully ‘ ‘ scary, ’ ’ Elizabeth said. 

“Some animal is after a game-bird, I think,” 
said Uncle, as loud bird-cries of terror came 
out of the darkness. A wild growling and 
snarling followed, and Uncle ran forward into 
the shadows. Then, to their amazement, and 
to Rob’s unbounded admiration, he fired a pis- 
tol. 

“It’s nothing much,” he called back to them; 
“but you keep back where you are. Keep them 
there, Marshall!” 

Oh, what delightful thrills of excitement 
chased themselves up and down the children’s 
spines. They had never dreamed Uncle had a 
pistol, and now to have him need it was joy 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 329 

indeed. They felt so safe in Uncle’s care that 
the slight element of danger was only delightful. 

As he spoke, from some bushes near at hand 
bounded some animal much larger than a cat, 
but with catlike motions. Leaping over fal- 
len branches, stumps, and low bushes. Uncle 
followed the creature, firing his pistol several 
times as he ran ; each time making the children 
shiver, or dance with delight, as in Rob ’s case. 

The animal had a large bird in its mouth, and 
as it slid silently away, belly close to the ground, 
by the aid of his electric lamp Uncle could easily 
follow its trail of blood, but whether from the 
wounded bird or its own wounds he could not 
tell. 

However, the children must not be kept out 
any later, so he regretfully fired a parting shot 
or two after the disappearing creature, and 
turned back to the waiting children. He found 
them much excited and full of questions, and 
promised that some day they would come over 
and see if they could find the creature’s dead 
body around there anywhere. 

‘‘But now,” said he, “we have had enough 
for to-night. Rather more thrilling than I ex- 
pected. It is half -past eleven o’clock, and I 


330 TRAMPING AND CAMPING 

promised to have you in by midnight, so we 
must hurry a little.’’ 

^ ^ Oh, it was grand ! ’ ’ sighed Elizabeth, as they 
trudged wearily home. 

‘Tt was just jolly!” agreed Eob. ^Spe- 
cially the thing Uncle shot.” 


CHAPTER XXIII 


A FOREST FIREI 

^^From out of the depths of the forest, 

Ineffably sad and lorn, 

Like the yearning cry of a long-lost love. 

The moan of the dove was home.” 

To tell of each day’s events would weary 
young readers, and yet each day brought some 
incident of interest to the little Marsdens. 

The middle of August found the birds gath- 
ering in flocks, preparing to start upon their 
long journey to the south. Crackles, with their 
beautiful iridescent plumage, strutted about un- 
der the trees. Crows and swallows could be 
seen in large flocks in the evening. Orioles dis- 
appeared the first week in August, and would 
have been seen no more until the last of the 
month, but for a woods tragedy that occurred 
at this time. It seemed strange to the children 
to see the birds’ uncles, cousins, and aunts, 
gathering from all directions, ^‘for all the world 
as if they were all going to Grandma’s for 
331 


332 


LITTLE FOLKS 


Thanksgiving dinner/’ so Caroline announced, 
as they all sat about under the trees, or lay 
swinging gently in hammocks one hot after- 
noon. 

‘‘They’re going where I’d like to be going,” 
said Anne with an unexpected sigh, that only by 
coughing violently was prevented from being 
a sob. The child’s tone was so sad that Aunty 
bent low over her sewing to hide a tear in her 
own eyes, and Uncle forgot to turn the pages 
of his book, as he listened to the children’s con- 
versation. 

“ Where ’d you live?” questioned Caroline, 
with the usual small child’s tactlessness. 

“In South Car’lina/’ answered Anne. 
‘ ‘ Eve ’body liked eve ’body the ’a, ’ ’ she said wist- 
fully, falling more and more into her southern 
accent, as she recalled her old home. “We 
nevah went days an’ days without evah seeing 
anybody, — and the snow so deep all round!” 
And the homesick child shuddered at the recol- 
lection of the heavy snows of February and 
March, when she was closely housed with her 
irritable aunt. 

“It ain’t that way where we live!” cried 
Caroline indignantly. “We see folks every 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 333 

day, an’ we don’t live in the country, an’ we 
have long tramps with Uncle, an’, an’, — ” 

‘^Yes, it must be nice the ’eh. And, with 
Ma ’shall ’most well now, you-all ’ll have a right 
nice winteh, I reckon.” 

‘‘Of course we shall,” cried Rob, with a boy’s 
dislike for any expressed sentiment. “Maybe 
you can come and visit us.” And, springing to 
his feet, he suggested, “Come, let’s go over to 
the Black Forest and find one more nest.” 

“Wait a moment,” said Uncle, laying down 
his book. “Anne, little girl, do you still wish 
to go to school this winter?” 

“Oh, seh, I do so much!” cried the child, 
clasping her hands in her usual impulsive little 
gesture. “I have been to school every winteh 
some. But — but — ^Aunt ’Liza says she needs 
me to mind Baby,” and a sob choked her voice. 

“Yes,” said Uncle, “but I think, Anne, that 
you will find that your aunt has changed her 
mind about it. ’ ’ 

“Oh, seh, are you right suah?” cried Anne, 
clasping and unclasping her hands as she stood 
before him. 

“Yes, I am sure, little girl. The truth is, I 
have long had a feeling that when a person 


334 


LITTLE FOLKS 


really wanted an education, they must have it. 
And my good sister here has said that if I could 
persuade your aunt to let you go away to school 
this winter, she would be glad to have you 
stay with her. And Aunty, here, will be your 
mother.^’ 

‘‘Whoo-oop yelled Eob, who had become 
very fond of his intelligent little friend, and 
turned three somersaults in quick succession. 
Elizabeth clapped her hands and Caroline 
shrieked her delight. The twins, not fully un- 
derstanding what it was all about, danced 
around, yelling like wild Indians. Anne cer- 
tainly could not feel any doubt of the warmth of 
her welcome from the children, but her joy was 
so great that she could only stand and look 
from one to another, too dazed at first to speak. 

When the childish racket had subsided a lit- 
tle, she gasped, Do-do you mean that I-I am 
going to you^ house to-to stay all winteh with 
you-alir’ 

Uncle smiled. ‘‘Yes; that is, to Mrs. Mars- 
den’s home. Aunt Alice has agreed to look 
after you, and Mamma says there is plenty of 
room for you.^^ 

“Aren’t you going to be there?” said the 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 335 

child; for Uncle had won her love, just as surely 
as he always won a child’s love. 

‘^Will you come and be my little daughter for 
a winter ? ’ ’ said Aunty, putting an arm around 
the child; and, drawing her close to her, she 
kissed the white forehead. 

The kind words and the loving arm about her, 
and the warm kiss, following Uncle’s offer of 
what seemed almost Heaven to the lonely little 
gixd, were more than she could stand with com- 
posure. Throwing herself down upon the 
ground, she buried her head in Aunty’s lap, 
where she sobbed violently. No one disturbed 
her for a while ; then Aunty, growing alarmed, 
tried to raise her to her feet, saying, ‘‘My dear, 
you must not cry so ! You are wearing yourself 
out. ’ ’ But the sobs did not cease. Her feelings 
were so intense that time was needed. 

Then Uncle said, ‘ ‘ Come, Anne, brace up now. 
Be a little woman.” 

With a great effort, as if she would do any- 
thing he asked, Anne subdued her sobs enough 
to say, almost in a whisper, “No one’s eveh 
kissed me — not since my motheh died, five yea’s 
ago.” 

“Come on. Buff,” cried Rob, with unusual 


LITTLE FOLKS 


336 

tact; ^4et’s us go over in the Black Forest like 
we started to do,^’ and, catching a twin by each 
hand, he raced away, the two sisters following. 

The young birds were all out of their nests 
now, except an occasional brood here or there, 
that, for some unaccountable reason, the par- 
ents had been belated in raising; or that hap- 
pened to be a second or third brood of the sea- 
son. Missing their pleasure of watching the 
home-life of the birds, the children had spent 
most of their time for the past two or three 
weeks in searching for nests, and Eob was sure 
that in the cool depths of the Black Forest they 
might yet find a few more nests containing 
young birds. 

The older children had been for some time 
allowed to roam about the outskirts of the Black 
Forest, and the little ones were permitted to ac- 
company them on condition that they remained 
close by. 

They found the woods very dry, and anything 
but cool. Leaves crackled under their feet as 
they trudged about. At the expense of their 
clothing, and many scratches and bruises, they 
penetrated farther into the forest than they had 
ever before gone alone. 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 337 

It seemed strangely hot and still. Hardly a 
bird was to be seen. No wee animals scuttled 
about among the leaves. No squirrels played in 
the trees. Where were all their little woods- 
friends? They began to feel an unaccountable 
awe of the silent woods. Had everything gone 
to sleep, as in the fairy-tale? The twins clung 
to the older ones in silent fear. The leaves 
underfoot almost burned their feet. The trunks 
of the trees were hot, as they laid their hands 
upon them. 

‘‘Let’s go home,” begged Caroline at last. 
“I’m so hot and tired.” 

“Oh, no,” urged Rob. “Let’s find one more 
nest.” 

So they pushed on a little farther, and, at last, 
Rob triumphantly pointed out a dove’s nest in 
the crotch of a tree. It was so loosely put to- 
gether that it seemed as if, at any moment, the 
babies might fall through. Rob scrambled up 
the tree to get a look at the young birds, then 
dropped down, quite willing now to turn back. 

“I never was so hot,” he complained, as he 
mopped his crimson forehead with his handker- 
chief. “Let’s get a drink somewhere.” 

“We’d have to go clear through the woods to 


LITTLE FOLKS 


338 

the river,’’ said Elizabeth, with an involuntary 
shudder at the thought, ‘^and I want to get 
home. Let’s go on.” 

‘‘Yes, yes,” cried the little ones. So they 
stumbled on toward camp, reaching it at last 
with the twins almost exhausted, and the older 
ones hot and nervous. When they had re- 
freshed themselves, they found Papa, just re- 
turned from a fishing trip, talking earnestly to 
Uncle and Mamma. 

‘ ‘ The farmers are much excited over the for- 
est-fires farther up,” he was saying. “They 
want us to be very careful with our fires and 
matches. You little ones,” he continued, turn- 
ing to the children, “must not throw down any 
matches, or light any bonfires. In fact,” he 
said, turning to the older folks again, “I think 
that the farmers would be quite as well pleased 
if we were out of the woods. And I’ve been 
thinking. Mamma, as we were expecting to go 
home in a week, perhaps it would be just as 
well to pack up our traps and go next Friday.” 
A wail went up from the children, but the 
gro^vn folks, after a short consultation, de- 
cided that Papa’s plan was best. 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 339 

Tuesday morning the sun rose in a red haze, 
and Tuesday night it set like a great red orange 
in the western sky. Wednesday, at noon, it 
hung like a dull red ball overhead, and the air 
was full of smoke. The woods about their 
camp now seemed alive with birds and tiny 
four-footed creatures. 

Where did they all come from, all of a sud- 
den?^’ the children wondered. But the grown 
folks were too busy and too anxious for once to 
answer their questions. And they could not 
guess that the forest-fires were raging behind 
them, and driving the terrified little creatures 
on before. 

Thursday morning the children were awak- 
ened by the tramping of many feet, and the 
rumbling of wagons, and tramping of horses, 
as men passed through their camp. Papa and 
Uncle were up and dressed, and about to join 
a party of men, when the children awakened. 

‘Won must all wait for some coffee,’’ they 
heard Mamma say, as they scrambled into their 
clothes any which way, and splashed cold water 
into their sleepy eyes. 

‘Ts there any danger here?” she asked 


LITTLE FOLKS 


340 

anxiously of the men standing about waiting 
for the coffee to boil. 

‘‘Oh, no,^’ answered a big man, who seemed 
to be the leader. “It can’t cross the corn-field 
or the river.” 

“Oh,” cried Eob, “is the fire in the Black 
Forest?” 

“They’re all afire, sonny,” the man answered. 
“We’re going up now to try to save some of 
the timber, and Farmer McLeod’s farm over 
yon to the east.” 

Marshall, who had joined them, sleepily rub- 
bing his eyes, looked eagerly at his mother, his 
now shining eyes plainly asking the question 
his lips did not form. But she went quietly on 
pouring the coffee. 

Turning to his father, Rob pulled his coat- 
tails, saying in a loud whisper, “Oh, may I go. 
Daddy ? May Marsh and I go I Oh, please. I 
know we could help. ’ ’ 

His father hesitated, but the big farmer 
looked at the well-grown lad approvingly. 
“Sure you can go, sonny. We need every man 
in the neighborhood,” and he winked mischiev- 
ously at Papa. 

“All right,” said Papa, 


‘ ‘ come along. 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 341 

Marsh, you ride over, and you^d better just look 
on. It’s pretty hot,” he added, lest the boy 
feel hurt. 

Having drained their coffee-cups, the men 
hurried away, while the twins shouted shrilly 
to know if they might go, too. 

In the corn-field the little party of men walk- 
ing, met many little woods-creatures driven 
from their lairs by the fire, and made unusually 
tame by their terror of that dreaded enemy. A 
fox stole softly past them, and glimpses of rab- 
bits, squirrels, chipmunks, porcupines, and wee 
mice might be seen on every side, as they fled 
from the common enemy. 

On the edge of the forest they met a young 
doe, her great soft eyes wild with fear. For a 
moment she faced them, then, like a flash, dis- 
appeared in the smoke-clad trees of the forest. 

The smoke grew thick and blinding when they 
entered the woods. A quarter of a mile inside 
the men found themselves among the blazing 
trees. Not all the trees were burning, even 
here. Many only showed a little blaze near the 
top. But the roar of the great fire could be 
distinctly heard. Soon they could see it be- 
yond them, raging in the height of its fury. 


LITTLE FOLKS 


342 

Like some strange roaring animal, it leaped 
from tree to tree. On the men rushed, half- 
blinded, but determined to take the shortest 
way to the farmer’s place, for they realized 
more than ever, when they saw the fire, how 
much their strength was needed. 

Near the opposite side of the forest, for they 
had cut across one corner, they came upon the 
dead body of a lynx, a plover still grasped firmly 
in his stiffened jaws, and several bullets in his 
body. 

^‘Ah,”" cried Uncle, ‘This is undoubtedly the 
creature I shot at that night we were over 
here. I am sorry that we did not find him soon 
enough to have saved his skin.” 

When they reached the farm they found a 
number of the nearer neighbors ahead of them, 
all busy, or eager to help in the fight before 
them. Some were cutting down the magnificent 
forest-trees. Others were chopping them up 
and hauling them to places of safety. Others, 
still, were digging deep trenches between the 
farm and the forest. And some were on top 
of the houses, granaries, and other buildings, 
soaking them with water to prevent them from 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 343 

catching fire from the flying sparks. These lat- 
ter men Rob joined. 

Birds of all kinds flew about the heads of the 
men as they worked, almost tame in their terror. 
Once a beautiful deer bounded across a field in 
full view of the men. 

One man caught up his gun and was about to 
shoot, but another struck down his hand, saying, 
^‘Aw, don’t! Let it go!” And the other men 
echoed his words, ‘^Let it go,” as the creature 
disappeared in the woods beyond. A wild-cat 
crept slyly away through a corn-field ; and 
grouse, plover, and quail were everywhere. 
Snakes wriggled through the grass, escaping 
from one enemy, only to be killed by another. 

Rob thought of the little mother-dove on her 
nest in the forest, and his heart ached for her. 
There had been no burning trees within a quar- 
ter of a mile of her when they came through the 
forest. The wind was blowing away from the 
tree, and a tiny stream ran between it and 
the fire. But even under these circumstances 
it was hard to say how far the fire might have 
traveled by this time. The boy worked steadily 
on, however, but wishing more and more, as he 


LITTLE FOLKS 


344 

saw the birds and animals flying from the dan- 
ger, that he could help the poor little mother- 
dove. 

At three o’clock in the afternoon the men 
stopped working, for the fire was halted in its 
mad rush, and by their labors the farm was 
saved. The women were urging the men to eat 
a luncheon, which they had prepared, and Eob, 
impatient to go, was forced to wait until they 
were rested and refreshed. 

At last, however, with the farmer’s grateful 
thanks following them, they hurried toward 
their homes. This time those who walked, in- 
stead of pushing through the forest skirted it. 
When they came around to the south side, the 
camp only across the field from them, Eob 
paused. He felt sure that those great burly 
men would laugh at him if he told them that he 
wanted to go to the relief of a little mourning- 
dove. But there was one of the party, who, he 
knew, would sympathize with him. So, draw- 
ing his uncle to one side, he told him of the nest 
in the woods. 

‘‘The wind wasn’t blowing toward her tree 
until noon. Uncle. But I’m afraid by this time 
the fire must be very near to her, ’ ’ he explained. 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 345 

Uncle was very hot and tired, and so were 
all of the men. But his heart throbbed with 
pity for the bird, who, he knew, would stay with 
he.r young through almost any danger. 

^‘Men,’’ he said at last, ‘‘youVe seen the 
little creatures of the woods all day escaping 
from the fire. But Rob here tells me that, just 
a little way from here, is a mourning-dove 
nest with young in it. We feel sure that she 
will not leave her young to perish alone. And 
having seen so many little creatures escaping 
to-day, Rob cannot bear to leave her sitting 
there alone, awaiting such a horrid death. 

‘‘Oh, she won’t stay,” argued one of the men. 

Uncle looked doubtful. “I have studied 
birds for a number of years,” he said, “and I 
have never seen a dove desert her young for 
any cause. Rob and I propose to go over there, 
cut down the tree, and, if possible, save her.” 

The men looked at one another, hesitating. 
Saving the timber was one thing; saving a fool- 
ish little mourning-dove was quite another. 
Uncle reached for the ax in the hands of one 
of the men. 

The man did not give it to him, but said, half 
sheepishly, “I guess I’ll go along.” He was 


LITTLE FOLKS 


346 

the young fellow who had brought the dead 
birds to Uncle for sale. 

In a moment the whole party turned back into 
the smoke and heat once more. The under- 
brush was burning in places, and the tops of 
many trees were blazing. They soon reached a 
place from where they could see the nest still 
unharmed, but the tree was burning near the 
top. 

At first the smoke hid the mother-bird; then, 
a gust of wind clearing it away for a mo- 
ment, they saw her standing upon the nest, her 
wings spread ivide above the little ones, as she 
had so often stood to protect them from the 
sun. They could hear her wild cries of terror, 
and now and then she would lower her head to 
the little ones, and make soft, cooing noises, as 
if assuring them that mother was near. The 
light of the flames flickered upon her exquisite 
plumage, changing it to shimmering golden 
green and then to purple, then softening to 
bluish gray, with just a tint of rose. 

Some underbrush was burning fiercely about 
the tree, so that it was plainly impracticable to 
cut it down. Rob dashed wildly about, trying 
to find a place through which he could approach 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 347 

it. The undergrowth was not thick, and the 
farmers, seeing the boy’s real distress, began 
cutting and tramping out a path for him. 

*‘We can’t stay here long enough to cut down 
the tree,” said one of the men hoarsely, wiping 
his smarting eyes. The smoke was growing 
thicker every moment. 

‘‘No, no, Rob,” cried his uncle. “It is fool- 
ish to try. We cannot ask so much of the men. ’ ’ 

But Rob, not even hearing his uncle’s words, 
had clasped the hot trunk of the tree with his 
arms and knees, and, blinded by smoke and 
smarting tears, was rapidly clambering up to- 
ward the nest. 

“Hurrah!” shouted the men, always de- 
lighted with i)lnck of any kind. 

But Papa and Uncle held their breath in fear. 
Twice the boy’s hands, soon blistered by the hot, 
rough bark, refused their hold, and he slipped 
back. But never hesitating, he at last reached 
the first branches, where, sitting astride of a 
limb, and rubbing his eyes on a grimy shirt- 
sleeve, he looked about for the nest. 

In despair the little mother had settled down 
to await her fate, her little ones nestling against 
the beautiful breast that now, as ever, protected 


LITTLE FOLKS 


348 

them. She did not offer to fly when he put his 
hand upon her, but looked at him with such 
agonized pleading in her eyes that the boy never 
forgot it. Wresting nest, babies, and mother 
from the branch he thrust them inside his shirt, 
where he could feel her wee heart beating fran- 
tically against his. Buttoning his coat firmly 
over them, he slid rapidly down the tree. 

When he reached the ground, the men, to 
the boy’s amazement, took off their hats and 
cheered for him; and, taking his blistered hand 
in their rough, calloused ones, they shook it 
heartily, calling him a plucky little beggar,” 
and other such complimentary names. 

But Papa and Uncle walked, silently home, 
their hearts throbbing with pride and thankful- 
ness that they were giving to our country a man 
such as she needs. 

Eob, quite unconscious of any heroism on 
his part, but only conscious of the marvelous 
self-sacrifice of the little mother-dove, rushed 
breathlessly into camp. 

‘‘Here, Marsh,” he cried, as he rushed to 
Marshall’s hammock, Marshall having ridden 
home ahead of the others. “Here’s something 
for you to take care of. A whole family.” 





She did not offer to fly when he put his hand upon 

HER. — Page 348. 


M *' 9jt •* . ' * « - ' ■ .1 

,: ,,<♦ . .• ^ ^ ^ 

■; wy-- - ' 



'*r , . i» "• »•■ ,{4. # 

■: £,>;45j* y'., fitra 


1^. .BS^' < . 

^IK 

i: ' ■ *f.ir. >v;' r *.,v. -..^S 

ir|l- . '.siU-. '- ' ^ -. 




• « 






TRAMPING AND CAMPING 349 

The children, as usual, crowded about to hear 
the story, and admire the beautiful bird. Rob ^s 
blistered hands were tenderly bandaged, and 
that night, in his first happy dreams, he was 
dimly conscious of soft kisses pressed upon his 
sore fingers, and drowsily wondered to hear 
Mamma ^s voice, distinctly trembling, say, ^ ‘ God 
bless my brave boy ! ’ ’ 

And Papa’s answering, ^‘God bless him!” 


CHAPTER XXIV 


PRIZES 

^Tlume and go ye summer folk, 

Fly from winter’s killing stroke, 

Blue bird. Sparrow, Thrush and Swallow, 

Wild geese from the marshes follow. 

Wood-dove from the lonesome hollow. 

Rise and follow south, — all follow.” 

Edith M. Thomas. 

A FEW days later the Marsden children were 
gathered again in the big living-room at home, 
where we first met them. This time there were 
no cloudy faces, and no empty chairs. 

Marshall, with shining eyes, and cheeks to 
which the glow of health had returned to stay, 
was with them. Though not yet strong, all 
symptoms of the dreaded disease were gone, 
dissolved in the fresh air and sunshine. He sat 
in a big easy-chair, now and then turning the 
pages of a little leather-bound note-book he held 
in his hand. Rob and Elizabeth each were look- 
ing over a book like it, and jealously shielding 
the pages from curious eyes, as if some weighty 
350 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 351 

secret might be hidden between the covers. The 
twins lay upon the floor beside old Dane, each 
poring over a brightly illustrated ^‘bird-book,’’ 
the reward for finding the kingfisher ^s nest. 
Caroline wandered restlessly back and forth 
from chair to window. 

It was almost tea-time, and while they sat, 
evidently awaiting some one or some thing. 
Mamma and Aunty entered the room. 

With them came Anne, also carrying a note- 
book. But could that be the Anne we met in the 
woods? The unhappy look was gone from her 
eyes; instead, they overflowed with a radiance 
of love and gratitude. Her cheeks glowed with 
the roses of health and happiness, and dimples 
played about her lips. 

The children flew to give them chairs, and as 
they seated themselves, Elizabeth sighed, ‘‘Will 
they never come? They are so late.’^ 

As she spoke, from James’s sturdy lungs 
came the glad cry, “The car’s stopped! The 
car ’s stopped ! They ’re getting off 1 Yes, here 
they come!” And, to emphasize his words, he 
somersaulted back to his place on the rug. 

A few moments later Uncle entered the room, 
followed by Papa. 


352 


LITTLE FOLKS 


‘‘What a gay party!’’ said Uncle, beaming 
upon them, and deliberately seating himself, as 
if all unconscious of the meaning of this little 
gathering. The twins quickly mounted to his 
knees, and Caroline found a place on the arm 
of his chair. 

“What means all these literary-looking note- 
books?” he teased. 

“Now, Uncle,” laughed Elizabeth impa- 
tiently, “you know that you told us to be ready 
with our reports to-night.” 

“Why, sure enough, I did,” said Uncle. 
“And wasn’t there something said about a prize 
for the best answer?” 

“You know there was,” answered Elizabeth, 
laughing, and gently tweaking a lock of his hair. 
“And you know you’ve got it somewhere, too. 
So there !” 

“Very well, then,” grumbled Uncle, bound to 
tease. “Perhaps I can find an old handkerchief 
or something that will do for a prize. Come 
then, let’s have your reports. Ladies first, you 
know ! ’ ’ 

Elizabeth rose confidently. “I think I saw 
about seventy kinds of birds, ’ ’ she said. ‘ ‘ And, 
from what Uncle said, and from the books I 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 353 

read, I think there must be about a hundred 
kinds of birds to be seen in Wisconsin.’’ 

‘‘Good!” said Uncle, patting her head. 
“Your turn now, Anne.” 

Anne rose shyly. “I wasn’t the’e when the 
othehs stahted thei’ books,” she said, in her low 
southern voice, “but I saw oveh fo’ty kinds of 
bi’ds in this State, or hea’d them. And I read 
of about seventy^five moah. And, from what 
you’ Uncle told us,” nodding toward him, “I 
think the’e must be about one hundred and 
twenty-five kinds of bi’ds in Wisconsin.” 

“Our numbers are increasing,” laughed 
Uncle. “Will you please report, Rob ? ’ ’ 

“Well,” stammered Rob, blushing deeply, 
“I ’most always forgot to take my note-book 
along when we went tramping. And some of 
the birds’ names were so hard to spell that 
when I came to look them over, I couldn’t tell 
what they were meant for.” Here he was in- 
terrupted by shouts of laughter, for Rob’s spell- 
ing was something remarkable. 

Looking about in surprise, he continued. 
“But I have the names of about fifty birds, and 
I think I saw about twenty-five that I didn’t put 
dov7n, — ” 


354 


LITTLE FOLKS 


‘‘Oh, ho!^^ laughed Elizabeth, “you’re not in 
the race at all!” And Eob sat down, covered 
with confusion. 

“And now, Marshall,” said Uncle. 

“It wouldn’t be fair for me to take a prize. 
Uncle,” said Marshall, brightly smiling. “For 
I have had so much more time to read than the 
others, and in one of the books I found the 
names of two hundred birds that have been seen 
in this State. As far as seeing the birds myself 
goes, I have only seen about fifty kinds.” 

“Then,” said Uncle, “it seems to me that 
Anne’s answer is the nearest correct, but 
Elizabeth has seen the greatest number of 
varieties of birds. Thinking that something 
like this might arise, I provided two prizes.” 
And rising, he went out into the hall, the little 
folks looking eagerly after him. 

He returned almost immediately, with two 
rather bulky-looking packages exactly alike, 
which he placed in the hands of the two girls, 
saying as he did so, “I hope you will make 
good use of these, my girls, and that they may 
help to bring you health and wisdom. And I 
hope, too, that kodak snap-shots will be the only 


TRAMPING AND CAMPING 355 

kind of shots you will ever take at your little 
bird-brothers. ’ ’ 

‘'Kodaks!^' cried both girls in one breath, 
and Elizabeth fairly threw herself upon her 
uncle, smothering him with her thanks. But 
Anne’s words of thanks were few and timid, 
and her eyes expressed her feelings far better 
than her tongue. The others crowded eagerly 
about to examine and admire the prizes. 

‘^Oh, hasn’t it been the most gorgeous sum- 
mer?” breathed Elizabeth in a half -whisper, 
when quiet had been restored once more. 

^^You don’t half know,” whispered Anne. 

^‘Well,” said Marshall, after all. Uncle gave 
me the best prize of all”; and he looked at his 
uncle with eyes that shone with emotion, as he 
tried to express the love and gratitude he felt 
so deeply. ‘ ^ He gave me health ! ’ ’ 

think,” said Anne, blushing deeply, ‘‘that 
I am getting several prizes. And from all of 
you. You all are giving me so much mo’e than 
I deserve. But I’ll try to do my best to lea’n, 
so you won’t feel shame fo’ me.” And her 
eyes fell as she tried to look her gratitude to 
one and another. 


356 TRAMPING AND CAMPING 

‘ ‘ But Uncle gave Papa and me the very best, ’ ^ 
said Mamma, taking MarshalPs hand in hers 
and laying it against her cheek, ^‘for he gave 
us our healthy boy hack again. ^ ’ 

‘‘You-alPs tea^s ben sahved dis long while,’’ 
exclaimed ’Merica’s voice at the door. ‘Tt’s 
’mos ’ spiled aready. ’ ’ 

And Uncle, stopping Mamma’s words with a 
kiss, encircled her plump waist with his arm, 
and waltzed with her out to the dining-room, 
where we will leave them, all enjoying the good 
things with appetites sharpened by the sun- 
shine and fresh air of tramping and camping. 


THE END 







lO' 

• 1' ^ M ^ * 









